For all of you who STILL don't know me well enough....

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Also:

what flavor pocky are you?

[c] sugardew

It amuses me that the question numbers went "un, deux, trois, quatre, five, six, sept". Five, in French, is cinq. Your daily tidbit of useless information.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Is a little praise too much to ask?

I ventured into the kitchen today, armed with supplies, ready to cook. Gasp! I made my stupid soup: cream of cilantro. It sounded interesting. Once it started to come together, it smelled an awful lot like spinach. That amused me. But Ingrid commented on the color ("is it supposed to look like that?"), Mom didn't burst out with "MMMMM!" when she sampled it (keep in mind, she'll eat anything. She'd "MMMMM!" over dog shit.) and Dad's not touching it.

And through all this, not ONE positive comment. No "Good job, Venus.", no "Thanks for the soup, Venus.", nothing. No damned praise. And then, to add insult to injury, Mom came over to where I was and said "Oooh, it's good," as she ate some more. "I didn't get a real taste before." What am I, a moron? That's worse than saying "Ew, WTF is this swill?" right off the bat. Bitch.

So how did I like it? Well, of course, I sampled it while I was cooking. Maybe I put in a little *too* much cilantro, and the recipe called for red pepper that I didn't have, so I just left it out, but it wasn't TERRIBLE (it was pretty nummyful). And it was really creamy, I mean surprisingly so. So next time, a little more pepper, a little less cilantro, a little less sharing. Maybe I'll quit it altogether.

Fuck.