This morning I woke up feeling super domestic. As per usual, the very first thing I do when I wake up is make a coffee. I click the button & pick up my phone to check Instagram & by the time I made my way back to my kitchen it was a fucking disaster. A bomb went off in my tassimo. There was literally coffee grounds all over the walls & a coffee river on the floor. That was much too stressful for me so I went back to bed. GREAT FUCKING START!
A couple hours later I returned to the scene of the crime &, thank god (or whoever cleaned it up), it was gone. I took this as a good sign & proceeded with my plan for the day. Making kosher meatballs for Shabbat. My boyfriends mom taught me the secret family recipe cause she’s a gem. & I’m not Jewish but Shaun’s family is so I have to try extra hard. Luckily, they’re the greatest people ever. Except my boyfriend, he’s out of his fucking mind. I got down to business, mixing the meat with my bare hands & chopping onions & whatnot. No, I won’t expose Grammy’s magical recipe. Let me just tell you, by the time they were off the stove & into the oven I was finished my bottle of white & forgot what temperature, how long, everything. I guess we’ll have to see how they turn out. Oy vey, am I right?
K so then the craziest thing happened. I instagrammed a video of my meatballs looking freaking fantastic bubbling in the pan perfectly timed to music. & my boyfriend messages me saying “omg I saw your meatballs on Insta they look amazing”. EXCUSE ME!? You saw my meatballs on Instagram & you didn’t like my Instagram? What the fuck is that about. Obviously, I made my disappointment clear to him & he responded with this:
“I don’t participate in a socially awkward experiment to pretend to like photos or memories that are only lived and shared through a tiny glass partition. It’s disgusting. I prefer human interaction. If it was up to me I would be making those meatballs with you not just liking the fact that your making them. I am very proud and extremely happy with what you are trying to do. But liking your insta would in no way verify your Judaism in the terms that are reapers through a society of judicial rules and guidelines. That being said if you would like to take on traditions you should download instajews. BOOM MINDFUCKED”.
I just can’t. Turns out he was joking, instajews isn’t a real thing & that asshole still didn’t like my Instagram.
Now I don’t know what to do with the rest of my day. I need to go pick up some stuff I ordered at Tiffany’s but I’m too drunk to drive. I guess I’ll go look at tumblr now