First, I did finances. This activity keeps me off the street where I would only foment revolution. And we don’t want that, do we? No, we do not.
I hope I spelled it correctly. It would be so much easier if we could only agree to call it “Tacos Yabba Dabbo Do.”
So, I tried to make a pizza. For some reason the bread maker produced not dough, but little pellets. Ah well, some good did come out of it. I learned how to keep yeast longer.
Exclesior. I made a good pizza crust. Toppings were: pasta sauce and a cheese blend of asiago, Parmesan, and mozzarella. I made pork sausage meatballs with Italian seasoning. They went on the pizza as well along with red bell-pepper strips. The natives loved the pizza. This made me happy.
My wife got a little gizmo that translates foreign languages. She wants to use it to translate Tagalog. She had some problems, so she had me speak French into it.
Me: “Tu es ma petite choux.” (I know, I know, I should have said , “Tu es ma petite choux, choux.” Which means, “You are my little cabbage.” Where “little cabbage is slang for dear, sweetheart, or something life that.
Translator try #1: You are a little thing.
Translator try #2: You are little garbage.
There are a few bugs left in the system.
– Paul De Lancey, The Comic Chef, Ph.D.
Check out my novel, the hilarious apocalyptic thriller, Do Lutheran Hunks Eat Mushrooms?
This has me questioning the rules which is always a good thing.
It also has me hungry.