Roast beef sandwich.
This sandwich is licking it’s other half! CANNIBAL SANDWICH!!!
(Source: hungryhedonist.blogspot.com)
Depression Baking.
I thought I had finally found my people! People like me who desperately try to stave of depression by baking. Staying up until the sun rises baking cakes, cookies, brownies, cupcakes, anything to keep us from crying and thinking about how our ex-wives are sailing the world on a yacht. Then, throwing it all away.
When I saw Depression Baking on Google I thought, “Finally, a support group for people like me!” But, no. Apparently, the depression they are talking about is the economic downturn in the 1930’s. Their Depression Baking is baking without milk and butter and other expensive ingredients.
My depression baking is making double frosting so I can eat an entire bowl of it while still having enough for my cake. I don’t use expensive ingredients either, but that’s because I’m on work disability and make no money.
Oh well. Guess I’m still alone.
OMFoodie!!
I got reblogged by FuckYeahSpautula you guys!!!! This has been a dream of mine ever since I got officially licensed to be a Foodie by the state of Maryland!
I never thought it would happen to me with my FIRST spatula post, but I guess dreams do come true!
This is it! This reblog was the first reblog towards the rest of my life! Goodbye depression medication, life is AWESOME!!!!
Butter Nut Squash…
Is the grossest name for a food I can think of. It sounds like someone slathered butter all over a dude’s nuts then squashed them. Nasty right? When someone offers me Butter Nut Squash I hear them saying, “Would you like me to pour melted butter down your pants then squeeze your junk in my hands?” The answer is no.
The second grosses food name? Queef Cheese.
Good Luck Soup!
I have a great idea for some “Good Luck” soup. It’s a soup made entirely out of rabbit’s feet!
How can that not make great things happen for me?! And I could use it. I had to check “divorced” on some paper work today. Makes me really sad. Why me, ya know?
Well, I’m off to a local black market butcher to buy 4 rabbits to cut off their feet! Mmmm…good luck here I come!
I finally bought a spatula!! Now I can cook things on both sides, which should really help my food taste better!! Thank God I walked by that garage sale after my car broke down.
Birthday Duck (NOT suck) Feast!
Well…nobody showed up. Not even Abhijit and Raghav. I posted flyers all over Technical Logistics Services advertising my “Birthday Duck (NOT SUCK!) Feast!”
I thought it was clever because people at TLS make fun of me trying to cook, so I thought I’d nip it in the bud by telling them it won’t suck. I even chose to cook duck BECAUSE it rhymed with suck.
But I guess it’s for the best. Apparently, I’m not good at making duck. I didn’t know you had to remove that layer of fat. The whole thing caught fire and burned. At least one the outside. The inside was pretty raw. But it cost $75, which is usually a week’s worth of groceries so I had to eat it.
Plus I’ll have to put some extra time in at Technical Logistics Services. So, look out Abhijit and Raghav, there are some serious disapproving looks coming your way!
I have this same suitcase! It’s where I keep my giant bologna and cheese slices. I also have a smaller ketchup carry on.
(via ultravioletwaves)
WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?! THIS IS NOT A BIRTHDAY CAKE!
You’d think when it’s somebody’s birthday at a place you’ve worked at for TWELVE YEARS you’d get a full fucking cake!! Not a pocket mint with a cherry! Thanks a lot “friends” at Technical Logistics Services!
I even offered to MAKE the cake. But nooooo, they said they’d handle it.
It took me like two seconds to eat this thing. Alone I might add! So much for the Technical Logistics Services “Family.”
I didn’t even get a sugar rush. It’s my birthday and I want an entire corner piece with a frosting flower!! If I’m not sick and regretful of what I’ve done, it’s not my birthday. At least not a good one.
(Source: turquoisebliss)
Oops…
Do you ever get confused between chocolate sauce and… other things? Me too. Next time I’ll remember that I don’t own chocolate sauce. And even if I did, I wouldn’t keep it in the bathroom.
