Feed Me Pauley

2017 has brought a drastic change in our house. Paul started to blog. I know that on the surface this seems like a really minor thing. How bad can it be…? Well Sir…You all recall that Paul is a qualified chef…? His blog is about food and coffee and tea. Those three things happen to be on my list of top 10 things in life that I like the most.

 

Now don’t get me wrong. I am loving that he has discovered something else

He cooks and he bakes.

that drives him and that gives him joy. Is it another flavour of the month in a long line of flavours of the month? Who knows and frankly who cares? It makes him happy right now. That is all that counts. He writes well…well of course not as well as what I do, for fucq sakes. Is he not the one that bought me the mug “The Queen of Fucqing Everything”? So no, that is not what this is about either.

Since the blog he is cooking and baking up a storm. And when he is not doing that, he is thinking of what he can cook and bake.  Vee Cooked (Insider South African joke). Now who do you think is the tester? Who do you think eats all of these delicious things that he cooks and bakes with so much love? Who do you think is going to have to make a plan fucqing soon to lose some weight. Not fucqing him. Fucqing me.

You know you get a fetish that they call fat girls and feeders? Please lord tell me you know about it... 

Well it is when a man loves the feel of stretched leathery skin that covers layers on layers of fat. These men will feed their woman to be obese (bed ridden obese) so that they can get a kick out of it. I don’t know what the fucqing kick is that they get, but when I get too heavy to get out of bed, I will let Paul explain it to you. He is a feeder. Hahahahahahahaha, yes that makes me the fat girl. I have done that math.

Just say no, you say. He is not forcing it down your throat, you say. You don’t HAVE to eat it, you say. Have you smelled this man’s food? Have you eaten his food? No? Then your argument has no basis in truth. The moment that first wiff comes from the kitchen you know…you know you are going to eat whatever the fucq he is making. It can be ‘Kakkerlak kak en chutney’ or ‘Beespoes en rape’ or even ‘Hoenderpoep en asyn’, you’ll fucking eat it, because he will do something to it that just…wow oh man! You don’t have a choice. 

I mean while complaining about the fact that my one thigh can now be used as a ride at Ratanga Junction, I am having a Vanilla Latte and Cupcake. You can’t fucqing say no. You know you have to, but you can’t. It’s like checking in at the airport. You know you have to declare your marijuana, but you can’t. No one should be blamed for this. I think it is a human condition. Not being able to resist that which we know is going to fucq us up. That must be why there is a sport like boxing. Those people just cannot resist being fucqed up. They get donered so hard that their testicles are in their throat, their one eye is on the floor, their lips around their waist and they have swallowed half their teeth. Ask them how they are doing…"Wonderful. I love boxing". It is the same with Pauls cooking and baking. I know that tomorrow I am going to have to run around our six seated dining room table twice instead of once before I sit down to eat, but still I stuff my face. Maar dis lekker, ons vreet nog.

His blog however is really nice. He takes on the persona of Tiffany (you will have to read the side bar 'welcome' to understand why) and explains what he makes, how he makes it and why he makes it. Yes this is my way of politely instructing you to go read his blog.

tiffany-in-ct.blogspot.co.za

Have a good day and pray for me.