BAD.

If you’re ever thinking you might want to try making mango custard, DON’T. Do not buy $6 worth of mangoes, do not buy coconut extract you will never use in another recipe, do not spend an hour of your life chopping and pureeing and stirring. Just drive to Sindhu’s in East Lansing and buy some from the nice people who actually know how to make it.  Because theirs will not taste like a giant sack of ass. Mine does. And so will yours if you follow the recipe from indianfoodforever.com.

I’m real sad.

Restless

For whatever reason I slept like hell last night.  And I look like hell this morning.  My face is all puffy and my eyes have a nice set of bags.  Even more distressing is the fact that I woke up this morning at my normal time, in my normal position on my side…clutching my deodorant.  I know I didn’t fall asleep with it.  It’s not within arm’s reach.  So apparently I got up at some point in the night, decided I needed to lovingly cradle my freaking deodorant, walked to the other side of the room, then got back in bed with my prize.  What is the matter with me?

S’true.

From Overheard in New York:

Little boy: Daddy, daddy! I wanna make a bear!
Buff dad: Nigga, I done told you a thousand times, thugs don’t make bears! [Tiny black boy bursts into tears.]

–Outside of Build a Bear Workshop, at 6th St & 5th Ave

I have been laughing at the weirdest stuff lately.  This really got me.

I think I need this

It might be because I have no motivation to do anything productive, but I have been sleeping in all the damn time.  I turn my alarm clock off and go back to sleep and then I’m good and late for work.  Help me, Clocky!