Poison me quickly and stop having me suffer!

I am back. I received another comment about that Jehovah's Witness post. It was another blogger who received the same comment to a posting in 2005. What is going on here? That Anonymous Jehovah's Witness skeptic must be on some sort of search and comment mission. I have to say that I am over that, but then again, that could be the ADD talking. Which would explain why I cannot finish a sentence here, and the incoherence. Oh, the ever present incoherence.

Anyway, I do have a tale of a journey to the Western New York, aka Buffalo, area. I would like to begin with a rant of Friday night though. My father in law was his normal confused self. As I say, ad nauseum, he writes nothing down and remembers nothing current, so it is frustrating when he decides he has an opinion or thought that differs from those of us who remember...5 minutes ago. There is always this grousing about taking his pills. There is the dinner dose and the bedtime dose. At bedtime, he gives the "Didn't I just take them?" line. I am now thinking that given the fact he really has no memory of it, that we should just say he did not take anything and it is time now.

Anyway, this rant is on my mother in law's cooking. It was the worst fucking meal EVER! Thankfully, the Wife made some soup, which was good. Though, my father in law found it too spicy or peppery, who listens when he comments? It had too much thyme, if anything, so it was a bit woodsy. There is no excuse for the crap that my mother in law served Friday. No excuse.

If I did not know better, I would say that she was trying to poison us all. Then again, the poison could not hurt, only help. She made some sort of breaded chicken breast in rice with mushrooms. I will not go into the fact that she uses canned mushrooms. That I can handle. How her rice has the consistency of mashed potatoes, though, I will never understand. I know it was grossly over cooked, I just do not understand how she can think that is the proper way to make rice. She has eaten Chinese food (well it is that Canadian Chinese stuff, all things deep fried and served with flourescent red sweet and sour sauce that my father in law seems to think is food) so she does have an example of how a simple steamed rice, or fried rice, should look and feel in the mouth. Yet, she butchers it, badly.

The chicken was also grossly overcooked. The breading, which should be crispy, is so wet it slides off the chicken. She used boneless chicken breasts, thinking of the Wife, who will not eat chicken on the bone. There should be no connection between her food and where it came from. I am thinking that the Wife would be satisfied with Soylent Green, but I digress. The worst part is that the chicken also had the consistency of mashed potatoes. The saddest part is that her mashed potatoes would start prison riots if served there. They are dry, flavorless and just plain suck donkey.

Then there were the meatballs. They were in some sickly, sweet canned sauce to be served on overcooked pasta that stuck together. Blahhhh!

In bed later that night, I asked the Wife about that meal. I mentioned the crappy sweet tomato sauce. Here is how the conversation went.

Me: "What was with that sweet canned sauce on those meatballs?"
Wife: "She does not used canned sauce."
Me: "She makes that from scratch? Who are you kidding?"
Wife: "She adds stuff to canned sauce."
Me: "Then she uses CANNED sauce!"
Wife: (laughing)"She adds stuff to it though."
Me: "Like a pound of sugar?"
Wife: "No, I think it was grape jelly."

What the fuck?!!!!! It is not bad enough that this lovely woman is slowly killing my taste buds, but she is also trying to make me constipated and diabetic. And she wonders why I do not take seconds and why she is left with leftovers. Fuck, that shit was not edible the first time, I am not going to try to force it down a second time.

The saddest part is that it is far too late in the game to set her straight. Then again, she could not silence out the voices in her head long enough to listen to the comments and make changes.

Oh yeah, the Wife said that her meatball recipe may have come from my aunt via my mother. I will admit that my aunt does make meatballs in this sweet sauce, yet hers is not nearly as objectionable. It was like two weeks ago when I saw the label on the stuff and it read "Italian chicken". When asked what made it "Italian", she had poured some sweet canned tomato sauce on it. That's Italian?! It is really crap, and that is an insult to crap, in any language.

I realize that I am now hungry. I am done. Ciao!