Stop it.

So I scour baking/cooking blogs like it’s something to do. If I could get paid for power reading a list of ingredients and automatically thinking about what could be improved, I’d be eating lunch with Bourdain on the daily. But, I don’t and I’m not.

Regardless, I found a recipe today that looked amazzzzing. Like, really. This was going to “the shit” of cooking adventures this week. Until I got to the bottom of the list of ingredients. Went something like this:

Got it.

Got it.

Got it.

Subbing it.

Got it.

Got it/need to scavenge the back of the baking cabinet.

Got it.

Go… wait.. thefuck?

No, really. Machalepi. What. The. Fuckery.

I’m no stranger to weird spices and will have admittedly archived tossed recipes over ingredients I really just don’t want to buy or can’t be used in anything else. But this? This is something else. I thought the point of blogging your food accomplishments and posting the recipes was to allow for others to share your caloric joy? Good for you that you can find/purchase such a kitchen remedy, but freal? Everyone else looking at your stuff more than likely a normal human being that gets giddy over saffron.

Get off your machalepi high horse, lady. Oh and your red velvet cupcakes look like crap.

Valley Fair

And here I was thinking that the mall on Sunday would be safe after the holidays.

But just like everyone who thought Tebow was done for the season, I was wrong. So horrifically and utterly wrong.

I still don't understand what it is about the mall that causes brain cells to seemingly evaporate. Come to a complete stop and flip that baby stroller sideways in the middle of a major walkway? Sure. Wander aimlessly side to side with a coveted Cinnabon? Yep. Bend down to tie your shoelace, exposing your plumber's crack/inducing a gag reflex to everyone on the planet? You betcha. Watch helplessly as your toddler embodies the most insane display of humanity during an emotional breakdown? Yeahhhhhh buddy!

However, you sir, with the Hammer pants paired oh so fittingly with a Ralph Lauren pull over and Crocs? Yeah. You were my favorite. But then, you just had to out do yourself by literally walking in circles within the same 3 foot radius with the most "dear, God, help me" look I've ever seen before wandering into Forever 21. Whatever you were shopping for, at whichever store... I really... REALLY... hope someone just demolished your face with some sort of fashion sense bat, club, rock, mallet, etc. Because your presence is public is really doing humanity an overwhelming amount of disservice.

/rant.