Pasta-Roni Recipes and the Great Mysteries of Life

[queerbychoice]

Tell me, why is it that recipes regularly instruct their followers in such ridiculous irrelevancies as the shape of dish they should prepare their meals in? Every single Pasta-Roni box I open tells me in the instructions on the back to put the ingredients in a "round, microwaveable glass casserole." So if I put them in a square, microwaveable plastic bowl, the food wouldn't come out right?

As it happens, I do own a "round, microwaveable glass casserole." My mother made sure I bought one when I was moving out on my own, because she said it was essential to cooking many types of dishes. However, I absolutely never use it. Day after day I rebelliously misprepare my Pasta-Roni in everything from cereal bowls to plastic Tupperware dishes.

All my bowls are still round-shaped though. I think I should go shopping for square and triangular ones just for the sake of being more rebellious.

Comments

[queerbychoice.livejournal.com]

Well, if the arrangement you're offering me involves being kissed by you then obviously it is a very good thing. ;)

I've been traumatized for most of my life by having nearly all my dining experiences utterly destroyed by the overwhelming stench of my mother's foods across the table from me - vinegar-drenched spinach, various stinky seafoods, bell peppers and brussels sprouts were among her favorites. The foods you consumed in my home, while they would have been appalling if I'd had to eat them, did not emit any stench to interfere with my own dining experience. That makes all the difference.

[queerbychoice.livejournal.com]

Oooh, a kiss! -blushes- -giggles-

Hey, I think you should know I've been talking about you behind your back. Here and here.

Translation of the Spanish conversation with Mikie (to save you the trouble of guessing):

"How are you?"

I am very content and joyous all the minutes of each day, because I am in love only with Metacarp and not with Katie nor with anyone who would get mad at me if she or he knew that I loved them. I am completely convinced that the only manner in which someone can be content is that all the people of the world should fall in love only with Jeremy.

"Well, for us it seems temporary, first, because after autumn we're going to be physically separated for.... well I don't know how long. Certainly all the winter and the spring."

Yes, this is the type of situation for which no one except Metacarp is sufficiently mature. -nods-

"I.... well, I don't love all the world equally, but when I love different people.... I cannot line them up or put them in order, one more than the other, one less than the other, you know."

For me it is very easy to line them up and put them in order. For example, I love Frankepi and I love my parents, but if I had to choose to please only one or another, I love Jeremy much more. It is because he gives me more happiness, and much less anger, and superior orgasms.

"And yes, you're right that I should talk with her about that, but I have fear that it could end our relationship. And I don't want to do that for anything. :("

In my opinion, if this is going to end your relationship, it will mean that she is too stupid and does not deserve you at all and it's much better that you know right now if she is so stupid so that you'll be able to start recovering. I much recommend that you be honest with her.

[queerbychoice.livejournal.com]

You know the point during orgasms at which you just can't go on any longer, when any further touch would just cause your entire body to go splattering into tiny pieces all over the room from short-circuiting pleasure-overload, when there is absolutely no other alternative for survival than to stop and forcibly relearn how to breathe again?

I mean "I" of course, even though I'm writing it as "you."

Anyway: you've just given me the emotional equivalent of that.

I now have an urgent need to get away from you immediately before you accidentally kill me with it or something. I'm going to go hide under the covers of my bed immediately and not re-emerge for, um, as long as my evil alarm clock will let me get away with it. Go off somewhere else and, well, endeavor to be a little less perfect or something, so as not to endanger my health.