“So I cooked the guy in a nice herb stew. I had my mom over for dinner, she thought it was delicious; thought we were eating chicken. Texture isn’t anything like chicken. But she doesn’t even have her real teeth anymore, maybe she forgets how it’s supposed to feel.”
“I made a pizza for my last girlfriend, it was asian barbecue. Had barbecue sauce, some mushrooms and a woman I used to work with on it. Honestly, it was probably one of the best meals I ever made for myself. Never thought it was possible to enjoy pizza that much.”
“What did she think of it?”
“She thought it was OK, but she said the mushrooms tasted funny. We broke up after she saw my fridge.”
“My first girlfriend was kind of like that, except we broke up after she got freezer burn.”
“I could go for another pizza. I don’t think I could make one quite as good again, though. That was a rare specimen.”
“Was it just the mushrooms?”
“I did something special with the sauce, it was a really experimental garlic mixture. But that I could replicate easily. The meat’s the problem. You know what they say, though, no accounting for personal taste.”
“Too true. It’s never the same meal twice.”
“What the heck is this stuff they gave us to eat, anyway?”
“I dunno; it tastes like chicken.”
- September 21, 2010
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