I fucking suck at cooking. My pork chops are not good. Dale’s Seasoning and/or Carolina Treat sauce is not an actual flavoring. I realize that now that I’ve had someone to cook for me that puts actual taste in their food.
Also, I lied when I said I was throwing away the cigarettes. I threw half of them away. I forgot how it felt to grill while drinking and smoking, and it’s a brief respite from the bland attempt at life I’ve been trying to live. Yeah, I’m drunk now. And that pork chop was not good, no matter how hot it was.
In better news, I opened a dialogue with my “brother” via text messages. He’s my best friend, but he’s also the closest thing I have to a brother in this world. I feel bad for making him feel helpless to assist me, but I’m also glad that I at least started the conversation and told him I was not okay.
Also, I apparently bought butter beans that weren’t microwavable. So I have to cook them on the stovetop. For 30 fucking minutes. What the fuck? Can we not invent a frozen butter bean that cooks faster than that? COME ON, SCIENCE! So, twenty more minutes of having Alexa play SiriusXM Chill station in every room while I dance around like a drunk-ass fool and recite these silly affirmations like I’m actually okay with myself.
Addendum to the addendum: Butter beans are also gross as fuck. They’re getting crossed right off the god damned list of possible broccoli alternatives.