Parched brain

The Arrabiata was a big failure. I have to blame the tacky pasta I bought, which I cooked to the extreme (I sound like Sasagawa Ryohei, haha) soggy sorry state it is in. I didn't bother buying that canned Italian spaghetti sauce assuming a can of tomato paste was sufficient in locking in the flavours and aping the taste I was sincerely aiming for. Those priggish assumptions cost me a meant to be decent supper. I would've washed the waterlogged noodles down the toilet bowl if it weren't for my parents' nagging that will cost me more than the moolah I threw for the sustenance.

Earlier on, before the successful ruination of my kitchen skills, I led our dogs to the park for a quick run. An obviously breed dog with its pimpy master started yowling dog profanities at my three dogs who probably got curious, and decided to investigate the discombobulated dog. Pimpy master and educationally challenged pack discouraged a not really turning out into dog brawl (because that would just be to plebe for my dogs). It led me to recalling Eddie Izzard's take on a certain dog food.

Buy Mr. Dog! For small yappy-type dogs!

And maybe they'll shut the fuck up.

It would've been lovely to regale those Neanderthals with a quality gag, but I doubt their neurons could take such high amount of energy draining aptitude for that. I don't murder for fun, after all.

Hop on to the Merchant of Venice--why yes, I'm on to Act V. But not before relishing Shakespeare's perverted (read: cunning) idealism on Antonio and Bassanio confessing their love for each other in high court with Portia bearing witness to the act albeit in man disguise. Surely, Bassanio's affection for his long time friend could not surpass his adoration for his newly wedded wife, but noooo... Bassanio just had to sprout his utmost fidelity to Antonio. For lending him enough guts to take on Portia's Turandot tendency. Giddiness and sweat made Act IV all the more unexpectedly desirable. It's just as bad for Bassanio to give up on his wedding ring, which he had sworn to his wife he would never succumb the item to any duress. Good luck with the missus, I'd say. And what of Shylock? Oh, bah. He's not worth mentioning amidst the sexual tension brewing between the male protagonists. What bond?

I seriously need a big time-out if I want to simultaneously relish Katekyo Hitman Reborn and Saiyuki Reload (and Gunlock et al., that goes without saying). Because wishing for a peaceful and productive day in his house is beyond impossible, It is within the absolute reach of the gods for it to be granted immediately.

And why in Merlin's balls is it so goddamn hot? The least this godforsaken archipelago could do is drown in rainwater, and start pushing up daisies. But the countrymen would hail injustice come rain or shine so what's the big difference?