Do not forget about the part where it constantly lingers overhead, and despite you thinking about it every moment and making every moment hell until you do it, you don’t do it until that last minute anyway.
I looked my mother in the eyes after a long day once and responded to a similar statement with “No, I hated your chilli when I was a kid.”
She really does make the absolute worst chilli I’ve ever tasted. It’s so bland. There is almost no chilli powder in it, just some salt and a little bit of pre-ground pepper from a packaged salt/pepper shaker. The recipe amounts to “throw some hamburger and tomato sauce with canned beans in a pot and cook it for an hour and then add random amounts of all THREE seasonings”
It’s a wonder I survived to be able to cook on my own.
some parents cant take criticism lightly and need it shoved down their throats to get it passed their thick skulls
otherwise they’ll just laugh it off and not change anything despite causing and denying a large sum of anxiety and ptsd-like symptoms throughout ones formative years. the parent might instead of helping you, ostracize you for being too “lazy” to go outside, yet when that one goes outside they get pissy and huge amounts anxiety.
but when one ask for comfort they say deal with it because everyone deals with going outside therefore you can suck it up.
or they tell you to do new stuff but whenever one makes a mistake one gets yelled at and then the parents wonder why the child doesnt want to do anything new.
Ahhh the Midwest classic of I don’t need recipes I just throw impossibly small amounts of seasoning in despite there being literal pounds of vegetables and ground meat in it.
Don’t forget to cook your venison through with only a little butter so you don’t get sick! A fucking alligator couldn’t bite through that shit.
My mom was a hippie and made her own bread and we always ate homemade food. When I went away to camp, I was the one pigging out on the sugary breakfast cereals like Froot Loops etc. while the other kids were busy being amazed by the eggs and pancakes and whatnot.
tosses and turns, occasionally glancing at the clock, getting more and more pissed as the hours go by until finally, exhaustion creeping in, your alarm goes off
I used to be like this. Once you learn to let go the anxiety won’t keep you up. It’s counter intuitive in a cruel way. But that’s life the more enraged you are at the lack of control you inevitably have the farther you are from achieving your desired goals.
Because who buys spices at the regular grocery store, it’s like $4 for a 50g bag. You gotta go to the Asain grocer or Indian market for those delicious half kilo bags for $6.
Then put them in an old pasta sauce jar and shove them in your pantry and let them get old and off gas their aroma until they’re just bland sawdust…but act like you’re still better than other white people because you own spices.
telegra.ph
Active