Tag: Food

When Cooking Is Just Not Your Cup Of Tea ☕

The other day I cooked. Yes you heard it right and yes it’s summer here.  I was all sweaty and my parents were (oh so sympathetic) that their daughter was out their cooking for her survival. I don’t need sympathy. I need a cook!!! Period.

It’s not like I can’t cook at all. I just don’t want to. I don’t get the feeling of internity and happy ending from inside. I have more bruises from oil than I have from anything else that I love to do. If I do feel like cooking something special or new it’s just a one day thing or a one night thing. No strings attached. I can follow the recipes well enough to bring out something edible but each and every time I am in the process of cooking I feel I need to have a chair and definitely an AC to cool me off. I can cook while sitting. I know there are kitchen rules but can we just include a chair in it? Tell me will that make the process any harder or easier because I clearly have no idea whatsoever.

What’s Your Extent Of Laziness? 🛀

So I receive the call in my sleepy voice which I think is very 1/cosC=SecC (but again I find it true for all the sleepy voices.) Do you think so too ?

Coming back to the point. I say Hello, and in comes a chirpy voice Hello Madam, it’s from some XYZ bank(Why is she so happy? 🤔(I really don’t care after that ). You can understand my frustration here, right? It’s preposterous!!! Another weekend sleep gone in vain. Sigh!!!

When You Become The Laughing Stock Of Your Family.

Let me try to reason myself out. I am pretty good with directions. It has only been once or twice okay!!! maybe thrice(please don’t intimidate me to blurt the truth) that I pointed left and told someone to take a right. It can happen to anybody right? Left? Right? Ahh whatever!!! Where shall I bury my face. Duhh me!!!

To Eat 🍩r N🍔t To Eat

I am just too much into food right now(read: Since forever). The problem is that I think they want me to eat them. I know they don’t have legs but how else would you explain them ending up in my hand every other time. Strange right? It’s like I am inviting them : “Hey there, why don’t you come and stay over in my stomach for a night”. It has to anyway leave the house next day. (If you know what I mean). It’s not like I do much. They just seem to love me back. Well most of them. I can judge if they liked the stay or not. Sometimes you won’t even know they are staying but other times, some of them I must say make the stay so hard that I contemplate on why I invited (read : ate) them in the first place. The series that follows next is not to be mentioned.