Irrational Anger Issue #412
Ok. I'm going to admit something...Sometimes I get really angry about stuff. Not angry enough to start shooting things, but angry enough to yell and scream. This happens anytime from driving to having the batteries on the remote control die. It's often very random and frequently depends on how much I've had to drink. I'm not an angry drunk or anything, I just don't like people, things, mother nature, the forces of fate, random chance, or bad luck fucking with me when I'm hammered.
So what was I angry about this time? Food. And hunger. If I make a microwave meal, by God I'm being lazy for a reason and I want to get right to eating, dammit. I don't want to fuck around with extra food prep and shit like that. If I wanted to do that, I would have made dinner from scratch and been screaming at my frying pan and stove. Totally different story there.
Anyway, I ended up microwaving some Stouffer's Lasagna. It's tasty shit. But fuck Stouffer's and their cooking instructions. Why are the instructions geared to making the lasagna so fucking hot that you have to either a)Let it cool for 10 minutes to the point that some parts of it are cold, while the center and sauce is approximately the temperature of magma, and you've already snacked on other shit and have lost your appetite or B) Blow on your food like you're fucking 3 years old and have to have mommy wipe your face so you don't get sauce on your stupid ass Bob the Builder jumper? Fuck that. I WANT TO EAT! I'm a grown man god dammit, I shouldn't have to blow on my food.
Really, it's not the hot cheese that drives me over the edge. It's the blowing that gets me angry. Makes me feel retarded. Like I'm a caveman being thwarted by a soda bottle with screw top. For some reason I start blowing on my food and it pisses me off so much I start yelling at my lasagna. FUCK YOU, YOU PILE OF PASTA! WHY ARE YOU SO HOT!? FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOU! WHY WON'T YOU LET ME EAT??!?!?!?! Christ, I'm angry just thinking about blowing on my food. I might have some issues here.
Maybe it's like Rain Man, I was horribly burned by cheese and that caused me to have some kind of irrational fear of overly hot pasta. Except I can't count cards or matchsticks.
Final note: Yes this actually happened Monday night.
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18 comments:
So much for my mellowing effects...freakin Stouffers had to come in and blow the months of hard work I put in.
I should have just had the steak. But noooo I had to improvise.
Putting in months of hard work? You should just give up. It's the lazy way.
Good point. Danny, you're on your own.
Oh well, I'll always have my lasagna to keep me overly warm at night.
Be careful what you stick in the boiling hot magma part of the dish.
The image of that is killing me.
It'd hurt him a lot more than it'd hurt you.
As a great man once said, "If I knew it was gonna be that kind of party, Imma stick my dick in the mashed potatos."
You totally just ruined my favorite food.
So that's how he gets them so creamy.
Danny, there was a time when I wanted to try your mashed potatoes...not so much anymore.
You will not be allowed to eat any of my food now.
Heartbroken. Besides, I believe almost all of the food eaten on Sunday was contributed by yours truly.
You may have provided it, but I took care of everything except the crab legs. And the marinade. And really, the shrimp could have been better, but other than that, I was AWESOME.
So really all you did was plop the steaks and a few shrimp on the grill.
In the rain, don't forget that part. And I took care of the fries. And I poured the drinks.
I lol'd. :D
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