So I was conversing with Anna earlier about the finer points of gastronomical engineering (i.e. cooking) of a certain Italian dish that goes by the name of Spaghetti. I did not make a recording of the conversation, but I'll invoke my own right to testify as to how the conversation went.
Jet: So you cook spaghetti right?
Anna: Yeah.
Jet: Do you put oil in the water when you cook noodles?
Anna: Of course.
Jet: And salt?
Anna: Yes.
Jet: Do you like spaghetti?
Anna: It's the one food that I can eat again and again.
Jet: Good. That's one thing we'll always have in common.
Anna: Why do I feel like I'm being investigated?
Jet: Just gathering information. Do you put garlic in your spaghetti?
Anna: Of course. How the hell do you saute pork or beef without that?
Jet: Hmmm. Repeat after me.
Anna: Uhh okay.
Jet: Beef all the way.
Anna: Beef all the... wait, what?
Jet: Beef should always be used, as God intended.
Anna: I'm not sure what you're getting to.
Jet: Do you put in hotdogs?
Anna: My mom does, but I don't really like to put them there. It changes the flavor.
Jet: Your mom knows best. Let's keep it that way. Do you like your spaghetti sour?
Anna: Yes.
Jet: Perfect. Red bell pepper or green bell pepper?
Anna: Honestly, both.
Jet: That's okay, nobody's perfect. I just want our recipes to be as similar as possible. So far, so good.
Anna: And why is that?
Jet: Spaghetti is like sex. No relationship can succeed without it, and it has to be something that can satisfy all parties involved.
Anna: By any chance, were you raped by the flying spaghetti monster as a kid?*
(may or may not have been part of the actual conversation)
I'm not sure I already mentioned it here before, I love spaghetti. I really do. Any woman who would want to gain my complete respect would have to have two things: knowledge in cheesecake making and knowledge in spaghetti making.
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