rice Tag

Doomsday Roasted Eggplants

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On Nov 28th at exactly 7:20pm, I got fed up.  I’ve had my 5th servings of chronic-crashing on my chrome in 1 day and my whipped iTune seemed to be super-unnaturally allergic to my iPad because it decided to kill itself everytime at the sync of it.  So in the attempt to steer my PC into the shinning new-era and deliver it to the promised land of salvation, I upgraded it to – Windows 8 (plug your best Angel music here).  …The reported beacon of hope had turned out more to be the beacon of NOPE, and I was punished for it.  Because then came as I previously mentioned here – the ultimate internet doomsday which led to my double emotional-meltdowns on the kitchen floor.  You didn’t think I was gonna spare you that story, did you?  Neeu…

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“Rice Pie” It Is

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And I really don’t have any other better ideas so “rice pie” it is.

I’m sure we’ve all suffered from this.  From Cantonese clay-pot rice, to Korean bibimbap, to Spanish paellas.  All are different cuisines of rice plus whatnot, cooked in a sizzling vessel that forms a “burnt crust” of rice on the sides and bottom, which many would argue is the essence of such dishes.  OK, now here’s the “suffering” part.  What’s the point… of creating those wonderful, delicious, toasty crusts… if all they ever want is… to STICK TO the cookware!?  Like taking a lovely prospect to a bar to get’em drunk and they ended going home with the bartender…  No?  Nobody’s ever suffered from this?  It’s just me?  OK, well fine.  I DON’T GET IT.  I like those burnt bits, too and I was there first!!  How can it choose the pan over me?!  It’s heart-breaking that after my useless HACKING and SCRAPING at an innocent cookware that really don’t deserve this violence, I call it quit and just watch them still happily and ever-so contently clinging onto each other while I ponder with frustration, “why?”.

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A Confused Chicken Rice

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I assume people meant my ethnicity, not the city I currently live in, but even that has no easy answer.  Three decades of my life so far are sort of evenly spent in three different locations.  The country I was born in but haven’t lived in for more than 2 decades.  The country I spent all my teens therefore granted me a citizenship of.  Then there’s the city I feel most at home, where it shaped me into an individual and till this day, still defines me.  So which one are they talking about?  Oh, and of course this shithole place where I’m currently residing in for the past 3 years, where I don’t even want my name to go anywhere near the close proximity of.  I think it’s safe to say that I’m a product of the environment of a shrinking globe.

 That I’m suffering from identity crisis.

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