Beetroot shouldn't exist.
I'm watching Masterchef, and someone just made a beetroot platter for starters. Who does that? "Look, I can prepare beetroot in 4 different ways..." What about the poor soul who doesn't like beetroot?! How selfish. (I don't like beetroot, I'm thinking about my own belly.) It stains everything too- I bet I'd drop it on my crotch or something. I'm awful with food. I recently went to a Chinese restaurant wearing cream trousers and a white shirt, and then ordered something with a bright red sauce. What a bad move. It looked like I'd killed everyone in there when I strolled out.. "It's nice food, and it satisfies my need to kill."
I reckon I could be a really good chef, if I wasn't so partial to beige food. Seriously, anything that colour that I can freeze, I will eat. Craving breaded cheese and onion rings like a pregnant lady. Even looked up a recipe for onion rings, then decided I was way too lazy to make the effort. You have to leave them in water for 30 minutes before you batter them... I want to eat them, not run them a romantic bath. I just imagined an onion ring in a bath, but it doesn't have a face, because obviously I poked the middle out and brutally threw it away. It's just splashing around with its toy boat, bubbles flying everywhere. It would be smiling if it had a face.
When I was younger I hated onions. I would do anything to avoid them. I once tried to make out I was allergic. I did that with lamb too, because they are cute and my family are cannibals. Actually, I'm pretty sure I still claim to have a digestive problem with lamb. "Oh, it gives me a funny tummy..", when really I'm thinking of its cute little face. Aww.
They say that your tastebuds change every 7 years don't they? So I guess being 21 has had a big impact on me. Or maybe I'm just turning into a fat bastard that needs to eat everything. When I'm grown up, I want a bread maker, and a slow cooker, and a deep fat fryer... Oh, we can dream. I also want one of those fridges that has an ice dispenser. If I had ice on hand constantly I'd definitely put it in all my drinks. Except tea.
Wait, someone actually just made chickpea and lentil cake. That is just not acceptable. It makes me feel so angry inside. If someone asked me if I wanted a slice of cake and then whipped that out, I'd probably kill them. I've mentioned killing too much. It's because I'm reading a book which is full of horrific murders, and it's soul destroying. My poor little heart can't take it. Books and films that contain these disturbing sorts of things really worry me- someone had to think about it first didn't they? Like the SAW films. All that torture had to be thought through, planned and then filmed. I realise it's not real, but the ideas are...
If I was writing a book, I wouldn't want to put such horrific things in it in case people thought I'd done that, or it had happened to me, or I had some sort of weird fetish. I'd want to write about rainbows, unicorns and cake. REAL cake, not pretentious cake made out of poo.
I've made myself hungry now. Fatty bum bum.
I reckon I could be a really good chef, if I wasn't so partial to beige food. Seriously, anything that colour that I can freeze, I will eat. Craving breaded cheese and onion rings like a pregnant lady. Even looked up a recipe for onion rings, then decided I was way too lazy to make the effort. You have to leave them in water for 30 minutes before you batter them... I want to eat them, not run them a romantic bath. I just imagined an onion ring in a bath, but it doesn't have a face, because obviously I poked the middle out and brutally threw it away. It's just splashing around with its toy boat, bubbles flying everywhere. It would be smiling if it had a face.
When I was younger I hated onions. I would do anything to avoid them. I once tried to make out I was allergic. I did that with lamb too, because they are cute and my family are cannibals. Actually, I'm pretty sure I still claim to have a digestive problem with lamb. "Oh, it gives me a funny tummy..", when really I'm thinking of its cute little face. Aww.
They say that your tastebuds change every 7 years don't they? So I guess being 21 has had a big impact on me. Or maybe I'm just turning into a fat bastard that needs to eat everything. When I'm grown up, I want a bread maker, and a slow cooker, and a deep fat fryer... Oh, we can dream. I also want one of those fridges that has an ice dispenser. If I had ice on hand constantly I'd definitely put it in all my drinks. Except tea.
Wait, someone actually just made chickpea and lentil cake. That is just not acceptable. It makes me feel so angry inside. If someone asked me if I wanted a slice of cake and then whipped that out, I'd probably kill them. I've mentioned killing too much. It's because I'm reading a book which is full of horrific murders, and it's soul destroying. My poor little heart can't take it. Books and films that contain these disturbing sorts of things really worry me- someone had to think about it first didn't they? Like the SAW films. All that torture had to be thought through, planned and then filmed. I realise it's not real, but the ideas are...
If I was writing a book, I wouldn't want to put such horrific things in it in case people thought I'd done that, or it had happened to me, or I had some sort of weird fetish. I'd want to write about rainbows, unicorns and cake. REAL cake, not pretentious cake made out of poo.
I've made myself hungry now. Fatty bum bum.
posted by Belinda at
14:35
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