I just want to tell her so bad! I'm an honest, open person, especially when it comes to people who are important to me. But I know that if I say it, there's no backing out whatsoever. I'll tell her, and she'll be put off, and I won't be able to explain myself, as that will make everything worse, which would in turn fuel those fires of upset that almost go out when she's around, and I'll be even bigger of a mess.
Fuck being 16. There is too much drama, my hormones are crazy, and I can't like and be happy around a girl who won't be put off when I tell them that. Wake me up when I'm 20 or something. :P
But seriously - Keep spending time with her, and while you don't have to profess your undying love for her, just throw it out there - Hey, You're pretty cool, and I like the time I spend around you a lot. I'd like to spend more time with you, let's do more stuff together. I really rather enjoy your company. Pardon how stilted this sounds, but some australian guy wrote it for me.
And If you get a gut feeling for it that the time is right, or you really fancy to, Just kiss her, and see what happens. By the sound of it, either way, you won't lose a friend, which is the important thing for you at this point.
But seriously - Keep spending time with her, and while you don't have to profess your undying love for her, just throw it out there - Hey, You're pretty cool, and I like the time I spend around you a lot. I'd like to spend more time with you, let's do more stuff together. I really rather enjoy your company. Pardon how stilted this sounds, but some australian guy wrote it for me.
I think she would find that pretty funny, actually. :P
And If you get a gut feeling for it that the time is right, or you really fancy to, Just kiss her, and see what happens. By the sound of it, either way, you won't lose a friend, which is the important thing for you at this point.
Yeah, that is what I really need, and I'm very glad she is there for me.
16 is more setting fire to things and running pirate radio stations age.
Actually, we lit things on fire with my big-ass magnifying glass. It was awesome.
Right, Let's make some fucking Porridge. This is not your every day porridge, unless you have the metabolism of a ox, because if you do give in to temptation and eat this every day, you WILL become an enormous fat fucker. And I don't mean that in a good way. These are the kind of oats you whip out after a night of torrid animal sex with a willing other party or parties, because Juggling gets you laid. It's got something to do with the soft palms and agile fingers. Alternatively, you could serve it after a night of delicate cuddling, if you're into that sort of thing, and he or she will think you're spoiling them terribly and they'll immediately fall in love with you, or if they are already in love with you, they will be reminded that another reason why they love you is because you're such a cunning fucker in the kitchen.
Right, Enough faffing about. You need two kinds of oats. That's right, two - Were you not informed that we are some very fancy sorts here? Well, You are now. Get the damned oats. Normal rolled oats (I swear to god, if you even try to use instant oats, I will tear out your eyeballs and urinate into your frontal lobe), and also steel-cut oats (McCannes are good, but honestly, whatever you can get a hold of should do fine. Unless they're instant. I fucking warned you about that, don't even think it.).
Also, you're going to need water, Butter - Real butter, not margarine, of course, because margarine is for people with no taste, and we are not those people, are we? - coarse sea salt, some Maple syrup(but I'll be nice, and let you use honey or raw sugar instead, if you really must. No White sugar, and you bet your balls no god-damn sugar substitutes.)
Equipment wise, you'll need a good saucepan - it's hardly special or nice if you use that shitpot you picked up for two pounds from Wilcos when you were studying feminist literature in a sorry attempt to get laid by some crazy free-love hippie chicks, with a minor in not getting a real degree - a stove, Preferably gas, but I'll let you off on that one. You will also need a wooden spoon or some other implement of stirring, and a measuring cup. Again, some good ones, not the measuring cup you have from the second-hand store which measures in multiples of the weight of Wayne Rooney's genitals, or the wooden spoon which looks like it was carved with a badly knapped bit of flint by someone named "ugh urgh fucking grunt grunt" in the stone age and is covered in old food, with burn marks where your stoned Geordie house-mate left it sitting against the shitty electric hob. Nice ones. I shouldn't have to explain this to you twice.
Begin with a saucepan. Take a couple of pretty good tablespoonfuls of butter, and whack them in the saucepan over a low light, so it melts nice without boiling or cooking off. Because if it boils off, you can't use it, can you?
Add about a heaped tablespoonful of McCann's Steel Cut Oats, and then dump it into the butter - the melted butter in the pan, don't be a moron - and then let them start to cook some. Then, Add about three-quarters of a cupful of normal rolled oats, along with a bit less than half a teaspoon of coarse seasalt. Now, cook all that in the butter, on a low heat, stirring it around a bit with your wooden spoon. Don't let it burn, idiot. We're making fantastic porridge, not fire. People don't eat fire. Before long, everything will smell like an ANZAC biscuit, and the oats will be browning well, and will have absorbed all the butter, and they'll propably pad in, rubbing their puffy panda eyes and being all sexy, adorable and dishevelled, saying "That smells lovely, what are you making?". If they say "My god/allah/Flying Spaghetti monster/goddess/Richard Dawkins, that smells fantastic, ravage me right now on the floor you sexy beast" then you must resist, because otherwise it will burn while you're distracted, and you'll have to clean up and start again. You don't want that. Burned breakfast isn't sexy. Also, if they rub their panda eyes and ask what's on fire, then you did it wrong, and you're never getting sex again. I suggest looking for the nearest monastery or nunnery(is that what you call those places they keep all the nuns at? I'm not sure. But let's call it a nunnery for now.) and enrol yourself there. By now, the oats should be just starting to brown a little around the edges - you can let them brown a little more, but I don't. And let's face it, you probably won't either, since you're following my recipe.
RIGHT! Now that you've successfully resisted both eating it because of the delicious smell - oh, yes, don't do that yet. It's not finished. I really should have said that in the last paragraph. - and withheld your ravaging till after breakfast(as it gives you energy, and is the foundation of a good day) then put in a couple of cups of boiling water. Not too much, but not too little, either - Don't worry, you'll know when. Add carefully, because it's much easier to put more in than to take it out again. Bring it back to the boil stir vigorously. Then, Let it cook for about ten minutes over a medium to low heat while you make a good cup of tea, preferably earl grey, but Irish breakfast is also acceptable, stirring whenever you remember, but try not to entirely forget, or it will cook onto the bottom of the saucepan, and while it will look nice, it will taste of your horrible failure, which needless to say, is not a pleasant taste. Somewhere in there I normally add a little more water, but what you will want to do for sure is as it thickens at the end, stir more. You want it to be about the consistency of a non-Newtonian fluid under moderate pressure.
After about ten minutes, it'll be done. Sweet. Put it into a bowl - a nice bowl, for fuck's sake - Drizzle maple syrup on - real maple syrup, by Christ, or I will punch out all of your blood and use it as lubricant while I aggressively violate your nostrils. Pour thick cream over that(The porridge, not the horrible and possible illegal violation of your nasal cavities), if you want to. I recommend it. Now, serve it to your partner in carnal pleasures, and try to eat it in a dignified fashion, sipping your tea occasionally, while you listen to their appreciative cooing and slight pleasurable moans.
No. No. I'm sorry, but this thread is about Burrage-themed foods now. This is the Cooking Burrage thread. You may tell us about kissing a girl only as an incidental aside in your description of how you made Curried Currant Burrage Sausage.
AXEL uses MAN THE FUCK UP. It's super effective! The wild CASE OF BEING A GIANT PUSSY faints! What? AXEL is evolving! AXEL has become AXEL PLUS DESCENDED TESTICLES!
I can't believe this thread has been derailed. It is meant to be for whining losers to complain about the girls they love are never attracted to them in the same way as they are, and only "want to be friends," and now it as all about success stories and kissing... You all disgust me!
Comments
Fuck being 16. There is too much drama, my hormones are crazy, and I can't like and be happy around a girl who won't be put off when I tell them that. Wake me up when I'm 20 or something. :P
//inb4lukeburrage
But seriously - Keep spending time with her, and while you don't have to profess your undying love for her, just throw it out there - Hey, You're pretty cool, and I like the time I spend around you a lot. I'd like to spend more time with you, let's do more stuff together. I really rather enjoy your company. Pardon how stilted this sounds, but some australian guy wrote it for me.
And If you get a gut feeling for it that the time is right, or you really fancy to, Just kiss her, and see what happens. By the sound of it, either way, you won't lose a friend, which is the important thing for you at this point.
//inverseLukeBurrage
Courrage Burrage Porridge?
(As made by Churba)
Right, Let's make some fucking Porridge. This is not your every day porridge, unless you have the metabolism of a ox, because if you do give in to temptation and eat this every day, you WILL become an enormous fat fucker. And I don't mean that in a good way. These are the kind of oats you whip out after a night of torrid animal sex with a willing other party or parties, because Juggling gets you laid. It's got something to do with the soft palms and agile fingers. Alternatively, you could serve it after a night of delicate cuddling, if you're into that sort of thing, and he or she will think you're spoiling them terribly and they'll immediately fall in love with you, or if they are already in love with you, they will be reminded that another reason why they love you is because you're such a cunning fucker in the kitchen.
Right, Enough faffing about. You need two kinds of oats. That's right, two - Were you not informed that we are some very fancy sorts here? Well, You are now. Get the damned oats. Normal rolled oats (I swear to god, if you even try to use instant oats, I will tear out your eyeballs and urinate into your frontal lobe), and also steel-cut oats (McCannes are good, but honestly, whatever you can get a hold of should do fine. Unless they're instant. I fucking warned you about that, don't even think it.).
Also, you're going to need water, Butter - Real butter, not margarine, of course, because margarine is for people with no taste, and we are not those people, are we? - coarse sea salt, some Maple syrup(but I'll be nice, and let you use honey or raw sugar instead, if you really must. No White sugar, and you bet your balls no god-damn sugar substitutes.)
Equipment wise, you'll need a good saucepan - it's hardly special or nice if you use that shitpot you picked up for two pounds from Wilcos when you were studying feminist literature in a sorry attempt to get laid by some crazy free-love hippie chicks, with a minor in not getting a real degree - a stove, Preferably gas, but I'll let you off on that one. You will also need a wooden spoon or some other implement of stirring, and a measuring cup. Again, some good ones, not the measuring cup you have from the second-hand store which measures in multiples of the weight of Wayne Rooney's genitals, or the wooden spoon which looks like it was carved with a badly knapped bit of flint by someone named "ugh urgh fucking grunt grunt" in the stone age and is covered in old food, with burn marks where your stoned Geordie house-mate left it sitting against the shitty electric hob. Nice ones. I shouldn't have to explain this to you twice.
Begin with a saucepan. Take a couple of pretty good tablespoonfuls of butter, and whack them in the saucepan over a low light, so it melts nice without boiling or cooking off. Because if it boils off, you can't use it, can you?
Add about a heaped tablespoonful of McCann's Steel Cut Oats, and then dump it into the butter - the melted butter in the pan, don't be a moron - and then let them start to cook some. Then, Add about three-quarters of a cupful of normal rolled oats, along with a bit less than half a teaspoon of coarse seasalt. Now, cook all that in the butter, on a low heat, stirring it around a bit with your wooden spoon. Don't let it burn, idiot. We're making fantastic porridge, not fire. People don't eat fire. Before long, everything will smell like an ANZAC biscuit, and the oats will be browning well, and will have absorbed all the butter, and they'll propably pad in, rubbing their puffy panda eyes and being all sexy, adorable and dishevelled, saying "That smells lovely, what are you making?". If they say "My god/allah/Flying Spaghetti monster/goddess/Richard Dawkins, that smells fantastic, ravage me right now on the floor you sexy beast" then you must resist, because otherwise it will burn while you're distracted, and you'll have to clean up and start again. You don't want that. Burned breakfast isn't sexy. Also, if they rub their panda eyes and ask what's on fire, then you did it wrong, and you're never getting sex again. I suggest looking for the nearest monastery or nunnery(is that what you call those places they keep all the nuns at? I'm not sure. But let's call it a nunnery for now.) and enrol yourself there. By now, the oats should be just starting to brown a little around the edges - you can let them brown a little more, but I don't. And let's face it, you probably won't either, since you're following my recipe.
RIGHT! Now that you've successfully resisted both eating it because of the delicious smell - oh, yes, don't do that yet. It's not finished. I really should have said that in the last paragraph. - and withheld your ravaging till after breakfast(as it gives you energy, and is the foundation of a good day) then put in a couple of cups of boiling water. Not too much, but not too little, either - Don't worry, you'll know when. Add carefully, because it's much easier to put more in than to take it out again. Bring it back to the boil stir vigorously. Then, Let it cook for about ten minutes over a medium to low heat while you make a good cup of tea, preferably earl grey, but Irish breakfast is also acceptable, stirring whenever you remember, but try not to entirely forget, or it will cook onto the bottom of the saucepan, and while it will look nice, it will taste of your horrible failure, which needless to say, is not a pleasant taste. Somewhere in there I normally add a little more water, but what you will want to do for sure is as it thickens at the end, stir more. You want it to be about the consistency of a non-Newtonian fluid under moderate pressure.
After about ten minutes, it'll be done. Sweet. Put it into a bowl - a nice bowl, for fuck's sake - Drizzle maple syrup on - real maple syrup, by Christ, or I will punch out all of your blood and use it as lubricant while I aggressively violate your nostrils.
Pour thick cream over that(The porridge, not the horrible and possible illegal violation of your nasal cavities), if you want to. I recommend it. Now, serve it to your partner in carnal pleasures, and try to eat it in a dignified fashion, sipping your tea occasionally, while you listen to their appreciative cooing and slight pleasurable moans.
*High-five accepted.*