I’m editing I edited (adding bitching bitched more) this – you should probably come back in a little while to read it, and tell me what food you hate, and we can grumpyface together. Or something.
It’s cold, it’s not even snowing lately, but it’s cold.
Yes, I know, I live in Connecticut. We have winter. If I don’t like it I should move. Blah blah blah. I’m allowed to be tired of winter. Winter is like half the year here. Its annoying.
Most of my RSS following is about food. How to mangle it, heat it, combine this with that and make food matter stuff for the eating of. Or something. 98% of the blogs I follow? Food.
Oh look, Waffles, bacon and muffins. Meats.. a plethora of fantastic meats roasted/stewed/braised and Oh look – Gravies and soups and…… pie and cake…. and …
I love food. But we have a major economical problem that is forcing me to eat entirely way too much pasta. Did you know that I pretty much hate pasta? No? I do. I associate it with desperation, hunger and “I-had-too-many-carbs-without-protein” sickness.
The only time I enjoy pasta is when its coated in ingredients that I can’t really afford at the moment.
So. Pasta hate.
I think I might need to adjust my feed to exclude all the foodie blogs for a while lest I have bouts of ugly crying.
Also – Why is Pandora insistent on telling me I need anti-depressants and why is it forcing me to listen to break up music? (I think its a PLOT)
I blame the pasta. I should just break up with Pasta. Its you, its totally not me. I want to see other foods.
I SAY that I don’t care about the food posts, and then I saw bread pudding with salted caramel over on Smitten Kitchen.. so.. I’m lying. I totally care about food posts. I really, really care. They are just picking fights with me and turning me into a crazy, cynical brat today.
I’m trying to be okay with this. I am learning that it’s okay to forgive someone and totally not want them in your life for a little while. That you don’t have to save all the wounded little birds that come careening into your windows again and again.
Boy am I a magnet for wounded little birds.
Maybe if I start throwing the birds in with the pasta they will stop that.