Fat men and their feeders

I’m not very good at feeding myself. Well, I should rephrase that: I am more than capable of feeding myself, but the stuff I shove down my gullet tends to be terrible crap that has all the nutritional value of a salted piece of cardboard, marinated in Dulux. This fact did not escape the attention of my faithful Woman-Hound, Anna, who decided to take it upon herself to try and fatten me up even more with some fine, fine eats. It’s hard to overstate the butter intake from the 26th of February to the 7th of March 2010.

But what in the blue hell was I fed last week to make me care enough to write about it? There was so much I can’t even remember all of it, but I’ll do my best to describe it like those absolute arseholes from MasterChef tend to do.

Vegetarian chilli with some rice: the RICE was a STANDARD choice but I was AMAZED by how WELL it turned OUT. As for the CHILLI? TASTY is a WORD you can USE to DESCRIBE this STUFF I did EAT. 7/10

A chicken with some stuff on it like salt or something: after SPENDING part of the WEEK not EATING meat (thanks to ANNA’S stupid LENT thing), I DEMANDED some fleshy GOODNESS. Fortunately, SHE agreed to cook up some CHICKENY goodness AND IT WAS GOOD. 7/10

Lemon drizzle cake, apparently: the FIRST of the DESSERTS to be REVIEWED here, the LEMON drizzle cake was a DISASTER from start to FINISH. Lopsided FLAVOUR distribution meant the USUAL sugary TREAT was rendered POINTLESS. 7/10

Chocolate chip cookies: like COOKIES you’ve all SEEN before, except WITH chocolate CHIPS in them. An INSANE idea and one that I’VE never even THOUGHT of before. 7/10

Clementines: god’s OWN treat, with JUICE tasting like it’s STRAIGHT from Gaia’s TEAT. 7/10

But it didn’t end post-Manchester, and today at work I received a large box of assorted cookies. A lot of cookies were in this box. This woman is trying to kill me. When I die of ultra-buttering to the nth degree (Coroner’s verdict, natch), you will know who to blame.


1 Comment

Filed under Prattle

One response to “Fat men and their feeders

  1. Anna

    If you were really trying to be Greg the Egg, you’d be rubbing said chocolate chip cookies on your moistened nipples right about now.

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