I mean, those peanut noodles rock so fucking hard. I made them again last night with shrimp, broccoli and orange bell pepper and hot fucking damn. It's so good.
Tonight, I made mashed potatoes as part of dinner for me and The Boy I Currently Like. Sometimes, when I make dinner for us it's not exactly the best food ever. Then again, when he "makes" dinner for us, it involves a phone call (and the best fucking pizza I have ever had in my goddamn life). Anyway, those potatoes (skin-on, Yukon Golds with a bit of skim milk and plenty of butter), were so good. And I don't even remember the last time I made mashed potatoes. But really, who can screw up mashed potatoes?
It's probably prideful and awful to be proud of my own cooking, but fuck that. Those potatoes were de-fucking-licious. And while I am 99.9 percent sure I would have gotten some ass without serving any dinner at all, I like to think I got a little extra action for making a pretty good meal. Even if I only made two-thirds of it. Thank you Rainbow rotisserie chicken!