overcooking mussels is not a victimless crime. do not engage.
Amongst all the abundant obstacles in between humanity and happiness, I am perhaps most snuggly and intimate with one in particular. Jealousy. I am jealous a lot, both in frequency and of subjects. If you had just crossed my path in a white linen dress resting around a decently shaped neck, chances are, in the privacy of my somber awareness, I hated the shit out of you. I don’t want to. But it doesn’t matter what I want. I am betrothed to my involuntary raid on all signs of missing things.
What does this have to do with mussels or mushrooms, or toasts for that matter? Well, for it stands as a mascot for a particular specimen of humankind – one of many others of course – who consistently requests for my envy in every encounters:
Self-enjoying party hosts.
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