Lactose Lunacy

Posted: November 4, 2012 in Self-Deprecation
Tags: , , ,

I feel like I’ve gotten away from my original purpose of this whole…. thing I’m doing here.  I started this whole… thing… to stave off insanity because I was a feckless gimp recovering from wrist surgery.  I couldn’t do a damn thing, and I was going crazy.  Crazier.  Right, I was going crazier than before, because it was a matter of being stir crazy, but enough of the history lesson.  Lately, I have been given to ranting– rather than keeping up with my best trait, mocking the outlandishly dumb shit that I tend to do (sober or otherwise).  Speaking of shit, you’ve already skimmed the title– and you know that this is about to rapidly go face-first into the tank.

The smarter of you have already Sherlock Holmes-ed that I’m kinda lactose intolerant.  Of all types of intolerant-types, this is probably the best to be.  I suppose I could hop up on a soap box and start mocking the religious, racial, sexual, and whatever intolerant types there are out there– but let’s face it:  those types of “people” weren’t raised right and seriously should go take a shower with a hairdryer.  Anyway.

Lucky for me, I’m not full-blown lactose intolerant–  I can mow down on bricks of cheese better than any rascal-riding lardball you’ve ever seen.  Damn good thing too, cheese is like crack to me, and if I were as “sensitive” as my kid sister– my ass would double as a super soaker of the stank variety.  Savor that.

Aren’t you so glad I’m back to my ol’ self again?

Me me me me me...

Me too.

There are several things I have to avoid, unless I want to feel like an alien baby is trying to explosively exit my anus.  Luckily, I’ve never been much of a milk drinker.  Unluckily, there is cream (or milk if your bar/bartender sucks) in White Russians.   Don’t get me started on my caffeine addiction, because downing a latte is about as effective as doing Ex-Lax shots.  Still, this is manageable.

I’ve got to avoid ice cream, which tends to be a royal bitch because Cortana loves the stuff (and so do I).  Avoiding it tends to be *ahem* problematic at best, because she’s got a sweet tooth and it’s kind of our thing to shop at Wegmans after hours.  You want a challenge?  Pry my sweetheart away from the fracking ice cream section empty handed.  Still, I can cope…  sometimes.

However…  since Cortana and I have been together two years (shocker, I know!), I whipped up a fantastic mushroom alfredo sauce to top the occasion.  You know, her request, and me being the loving guy that I am– I hopped-to like the culinary commando that I am.

You know where this is going...

Uh huh, just like a third world kid on a soccer field– I should have known better.

For those of you who don’t know a broiler from a baster, the primary ingredient in alfredo sauce is…  milk or cream.  Oh hell yeah, the mushroom alfredo was fantabulous.

However.  The porcelain goddess has yet to forgive me, and my innards are totally on her side.

For those of you about to tell me to go find some goddamn Lactaid–  you know what?  Just shut up.

Just…  Shut up.

Unplug.

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