Emergency Relationship Gene Poll
Vomit pizza with green peppers.
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Hello. Sorry to suddenly intrude on your day, but I have a personal emergency threatening to forever rupture my relationship with my partner, Rachel, and need your help via a poll.
Rachel and I subscribe to Hello Fresh, one of those weekly meal-delivery services that depends — for its business model — on one’s efficiency and organization. Each week, you order a couple of meals for the following week, all from a generous list of options, but if you forget to do so, or to outright cancel the next week’s order, they send you whatever they want.
Because I am me, and incompetent at virtually everything, Rachel handles this chore, usually carefully and with precision and after consultation with me. But last week she got busy and forgot to either cancel or order. Which means that today, we got delivered the two meals they chose for us.
The two meals consist of the following:
Curry chicken, which … well, you know. I don’t have to go there again, right?
Cooked green bell peppers, which I have described as the single most overwhelmingly nauseating topping ever invented for pizza or anything else.
Cilantro-lime rice, which, as I have complained, is basically rice soaked in 20-Mule Team Borax
French fries cooked in Old Bay, which I have contended is a spice made from the dandruff from corpses mixed with rust harvested by scraping the base of toilet plumbing fixtures.
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So, here is today’s Gene Pool Gene Poll:
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Okay, that’s it. See you tomorrow in the famous Invitational Gene Pool.
Meanwhile, this is for complex and erudite Questions and Observations:
And this is for inane comments
And this is for your showing enthusiasm for my important “work”:
It's as if it was specifically crafted to be your worst culinary nightmare.
I admit to laughing.
What a fussbudget you are about food. You are lucky that Rachel doesn't stick you in a closet with a small slot in the door through which she can pass you a plate of stir-fried green peppers.