I agree with you. Even if you never touch it, it’s nice to know what the libraries you’re calling are doing under the hood.

Also, apparently the party of “humans can affect climate”.

I’m mostly talking about dry ingredients, which I can mash down, level off, leave heaping…

Most of the issues I had with cooking are a result of how recipes are. Recipe says dice a thing? How small? A teaspoon of something? The hell does that mean? I can fit a ton of stuff in there if I mash it down. Salt to taste? Forget about it. Pretty soon I’m operating in panic mode and maybe the recipe turns out but I’m too stressed out to enjoy it.

Enter Sohla’s cookbook, which explains everything. It’s part cookbook, part autobiography, and part reference manual. Her youtube videos are tremendous fun, too.

Yeah, the goddamn wooden spoon. I remember being noisy in a crib and my mom storming into the room screaming and busting the spoon in half on the side of the crib. She’d already hit me with it so I knew exactly what it meant. I got spoons, open hand, and hairbrushes for most of my childhood. Hair pulling, pinching, and ear-twisting too if we were in a situation where she couldn’t just haul off and hit me.

The funny thing is, she called me up about a decade ago and asked if I could remember anything about my childhood that was bad. And rather than list everything off, I told her about the time she broke the spoon on the crib. That’s when I found out that it hadn’t happened at all, and in fact if it had happened it was because the spoon was old and brittle and if she’d done anything at all it would have been a light tap on the side of the crib to get my attention, and now that she remembers it yeah that’s exactly what happened. It just fell apart in her hands. We didn’t talk for a few years because of that and other things.

After my daughter was born, she sent us a package that included two beautiful olivewood spoons from Israel. I use the fuckers when I’m making pasta. She calls or texts every once in a while warning me about protecting my daughter dark, evil things in the world. This usually happens when she sees a picture of my kid playing with a toy spider or a halloween skull. And I just chuckle and agree that there are dark, evil things in the world and I’m doing my damndest to protect her from them.

This dovetails nicely with my theory that Jesus hasn’t come back yet because we invented the nailgun.

Not the flex he thinks it is.

<3

“You love the boats. I do not, but I love what they mean.” sweeping gesture toward the window

Imagine being the ruler of that city and letting him get “cured” instead of having him infodump / give daily reports about this.

A thing that hallucinates uncompilable code but somehow convinces your boss it’s a necessary tool.

Better than my method:

• buy birthday card
• attempt to write “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!” in it and realize it already says that inside
• underline “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” and add two more exclamation points
• “love / sincerely / yours truly / — groucho”

I’m fine with that. They’ve called us weird forever because they think it should bother us. IMO it doesn’t, but saying they’re weird bothers them even more.

Pretty sure Jesus was a stoner and party monster. He was always getting invited to rich guys’ houses for dinner and the Pharisees always accused him of being drunk when he argued with them. His favorite woman was a lady of negotiable affection. Plus, only a stoner could come up with “yeah but, you’ve got a whole log in your eye, maaaan.”

Why they gotta do Marika dirty like that?

And he gets all icky when he sees blood.

Next steps: remove roof, re-submit as “Red convertible (compact).”

J. D. Vance sounds like a men’s big & tall outlet with weird font on their sign.

I always forget about that. Also we call anoraks “windbreakers”, which…

Sometimes my mom calls a fanny pack a strap-on. This is like that.