But! My boyfriend hates that I adore food. And I don't! I mean, of course I do. I need it to stay alive. But I need you too, boo. (Okay, I tried to rhyme. Failure. He's what I adore! Not food. If it were a competition, I would sacrifice food and choose my man.)
Anyways yeah. Can't right now. But I'm determined and hellbent on becoming a gourmet chef. Because right now, I'm sloppy, I'm a wreck, and I'm messy as fuck in the kitchen. And my food doesn't turn out looking and smelling tasty. It looks like shit, and excuse my language. Yikes. This filthy mouth of mine needs to disappear especially when I'm talking seriously, and food and cooking is talking seriously to me. Entrées or entreés, fuck if I know how to spell it correctly. I just want to make food that will unite all of us grumpy folks and make us happy for the meantime. That's what I love about food.
It can either pick up my diminishing mood in a jiffy or make me go sugar-crazy. But it will also make me fat because I don't have a high metabolism like my lovely partner over here. But it's food!!!! What's not to love!!?
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