Sweet and Sour Chicken... Psyche!

Dear Little Paperback Book I Bought from the Register Hidden Among the Tabloids & Horoscope Scrolls:

ARE YOU FREAKIN' KIDDING ME?!

What a send-off. How can 2 recipes, back to back, both containing chicken and fabliss wannaful fragrant spices... taste AWFUL?! How does that happen? I followed this recipe to an absolute tee.

How is it humanly possible to mix chicken and ginger and garlic and soy sauce and peppers and onions into a recipe... and the RICE I boiled... out-flavors the FOOD? 

One hour plus of cooking... and the result is Chunky Air Pudding. No taste at all whatsoever (except for when I occasionally bit into a random piece of fresh ginger root). Even the mandarin oranges and apricot preserves have been rendered tasteless in this recipe.

Well, I have pork and steak in the fridge that are awaiting their spin in the wok. At this rate, this cookbook will fail them both, but I am keeping the faith. Not a strong faith in this book of pretty (pretty awful) food, but faith nonetheless.

I will certainly never secure my husband at this rate. If the next couple of recipes fail, I will have to resort to other measures. 

Measures I am not yet certain of.

*...sigh*

*...sigh again*

Hell with it... *...another sigh*

Spicy Orange Chicken

Small talk, small talk, small talk, RECIPE SCAN:

More small talk, small talk, SNAPSHOT:

My rendition of Orange Chicken over fragrant Jasmine rice!
Mmmmm, that smells divine. Oranges and peppers and garlic and ginger 

make it smell like an authentic Chinese Food restaurant!

 

But, I will tell you one thing...

If it looks like

AND tastes like

 

...I am most  DEFINITELY never making this bullhockey again.

I am disappointed in myself for dedicating a whole blog to it, not to mention the 2 shopping trips worth of hard-to-find groceries!

However, I plan on getting to Ideal WIFE Status before the end of 2012. Learning recipes is just the beginning.  My other, ummm... "Personality Alterations" have yet to be documented, but I promise you'll be proud of me! Or rather, I will be... seeing as though I'm the only fool who reads this stuff.

HoneyB... Out.

Kick. Open. Side-to-Side.

Hold hands standing face-to-face with a friend.

Kick one leg forward. Then open them. Then kick left, then right. Thus the:

"Kick. Open. Side-to-Side".

Unfortunately, that means the partner has to:

"Open. Kick. Side-to-Side" or someone's getting a swift shoe to the shinbone.

So guess who was always the one who compromised???

Pat-a-Cake vs. Cake-a-Pat:

Four friends in a circle. Partners facing each other. 

Pat up, pat down, pat left, pat right.

It's all simple until the question arises about which pair has to:

Pat down, pat up, pat left, pat right. 

Who wants to pat DOWN first? Geez!

So guess who was always the one who compromised???

Guess who was left convincing her aggressive buddy-partner to do the same?

Sidewalk Chicken:

You're walking down the sidewalk and someone, sometimes a couple, sometimes a pair of friends... are coming towards you in the opposite direction. 

So guess who always ends up in the f*&#!*g GRASS! 

I usually bow my head and avoid direct eye-contact, making sure I keep my focus on the narrow sidewalk and hoping the oncoming chowderheads would be so kind as to notice it too. Never fails though. TWO people walking down a narrow sidewalk, always outpower one person coming from the other way. Can't you two line up? Single file? Make an effort? SO inconsiderate.

So today while walking, a middle school kid with some Bryan Adams sunglasses is coming towards me, so I test my cold-hard-stare. He jumped into the grass and I think I heard his heart beating fast when he passed me. I felt bad. No more of that. I'd rather walk in the grass and mumble the obscenities under my breath, wondering who failed so miserably at raising the rude brat. Or... better yet, write a worthless blog about it. 

Me: A lifetime of compromises... until further notice.

Love Is: Seventeen Katrillion Calories

My fluctuating girth can be attributed to many things.

The most predominant of those things are... well, food. Naturally.

I have found that I indulge in comfort foods and the joy of cooking...

When I am in Love. 

When my heart is all a'flutter, my tummy is all a'growling.

Although I would never recommend the Stress-Induced Diet to anyone,

The truth is, it works, just for all the wrong reasons.

Maybe when we're not in Love, we focus more on being all svelte and sexyfied for the next encounter? Although men who like fat chicks are just kinder... gentler... more considerate and loving creatures by nature. That must lie in the satisfaction of knowing that if your girl is fluffy, she's eating good. And if she's eating, she's cooking. And if she's cooking, and she loves you... you will be eating good too.

*fat raspy voice*

"Sherman I cooked all this food. Is that all you gon' eat?"
~Anna Pearl Klump

Love is sweet and rich. Filling and satisfying. Much like a Twinkie.

When my spirits are high, so is my calorie intake. 

Love just reminds me of snacks... and chickens deep fried.

Kisses... Hershey's.

Tartar sauce with a side of crispy fish sticks.

Butter and hamhocks and Edy's Caramel Praline Crunch.

A big bag of plain Lay's, a vat of Louisiana hot sauce and On-Demand.

A 2-liter of 7-up with a straw I wish was long enough to hit the bottom.

Damn. 

And now I'm howngree.

I forgot where I was headed with this.