The USPS Can Suck Me

Jul 20, 2006 18:34

TITLE:
Clearly, the Lorichan-muse has been a horrible influence on me

INTRODUCTION:
kwishin still no package. >.< Am very disappointed, but will bravely soldier on despite the depravation.

I'm strongly considering getting my laptop re-cased (the case has a crack in it) and adding more memory to increase the speed at which it runs. And, except for the part where I am a broke college student whose next paycheck is going to go to pay for my SSI fees because the Financial Aid office (long may they burn in hell) yanked my summer aid, I find this a good plan, and a decent arrangement of things.

*Scowls.*

DATA SUMMARY:
Still trying not to be cranky at the Universe, because that is irrational and counter productive. I caught myself humming "Amazing Grace" at work earlier, and was briefly unnerved. I only do that when I'm in a real decent mood, or sulking at the Universe liek whoa. I also have the urge to cook, which I also only do when I'm in a real decent mood, or sulking at the Universe liek whoa, and I'll let you figure out which of the two it is, because I sure as hell can't.

... Also? Have discovered the existence of something called a Bête Noire cake. Am now having immense difficulties resisting the urge to make the aforementioned Bête Noire cake. This is made somewhat easier because it necessitates nearly a pound of chocolate and a half pound of butter. (I am sick of cooking with chocolate, for the record. Which is probably blasphemy most foul, but really, there are only so many truffles you can make before you say, "bugger all this for a lark, I'm trying something new.") Heart Attack = Bad. (But still. It sounds intruiging. And like one of those things that's going to get me the "Oh God you're trying to kill us" look, which I will never get tired of.) Curse you, wikibooks!

Am kind of in the mood to try new bulgogi recipe though. DAMN IT, WHY ARE ALL MY CULINARY VICTIMS TOO FAR AWAY FOR ME TO GET AT? IT IS NO FUN COOKING JUST FOR ONE PERSON.

Failing bulgogi, I have this neat new recipe for pan de muertos and calaveras.

Seriously. You people need to get your asses over here where I can feed you.

Although turning on the oven in this heat would undoubtedly get me strung up by my heels from the ceiling by my roommate, so maybe that would be bad.

Except my roommate is kind of short, and we don't have any rope, so she might not be able to string me up by my heels from the ceiling after all.

But I am sure some other kind of murderous attempt would be made.

CONCLUSION:
So. I'm conflicted. Do I indulge in culinary therapy or not?
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