Sunday: a day of rest, repentance, relaxation and the occasional intense drinking binge. Yesterday I started in heavily at a hair past twelve o'clock and didn't quit it until I had almost spilled wine on several passing babies, freaked the fuck out about the acoustics in a dive bar, fell flat on my ass doing air guitar in said dive bar, ate a random persons abandoned fries at a restaurant, had to be piggybacked home because my legs were too tired, and passed out cold at 6pm. Some people do brunch, I do brunk.
Anyway I came to around 8 o'clock, called my momma, explained to her how exhausting it was to be studying all day, then went to fill the space in my belly that used to hold my booze. But Old Mother Hubbard ain't got shit on my cupboards so what emerged was due to both lack of culinary options and lack of will to do jack shit with an early evening hangover. I shall call it Lightly Seasoned Overcooekd One Pot Fusilli with Aromatic Tomatoes and Herbs.
Lightly Seasoned Overcooked One Pot Fusilli with Aromatic Tomatoes and Herbs
- Some water.
- Less fusilli than water
- 1 can of whole tomatoes
- Some oregano.
- 1 dash of straight up hard core gangsta attitude.
Now this could probably be made with any variety of pasta, but a quick tour around google image will I'm sure persuade you to stick with fusilli.
First, fusilli is obviously the wacky cousin of the pasta world, as indicated here by Rigatoni:
"I'm all twisted up Rigatony! I'm going loopy for christsake! I'm going to be in hot water soon enough Itellyouwhat! Enough about me, how's the wife Tony? Is she still as big as a fricken manicotti?? Ehh? Ehh??"
Secondly, there's this Seinfeld pop culture reference that I don't understand due to my lack of television, but if Jerry's laughing then you should probably be too.
So we're clear then? Fusilli it is.
1. Boil water.
2. Add fusilli.
3. Overcook it.
5. Add tomatoes.
6. Mush them with a fork so they break up just like your parents did just before your 10th birthday.
*Note: in lieu of fork you can use the meat hooks attached to your hairy bulbous forearms like this feller here:
9. Look in fridge for cheese.
10. Close fridge emptyhanded.
11. Eat that shit anyway.
12. Eat it real good.
It won't look nearly as good as this photo, but it won't taste as bad as a rectal exam with a dirty glove either. My roommate said, and I quote, "Hey, this isn't so bad. Also, you have the crazy eyes of a woman who was recently drunk."
Sunday, bloody mary Sunday.
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