"Mustard on a...WHAT?!
So, spare me. Granted, there's probably no need for that since only two people know of this blog's existance, one being my sister (and she 1: loves mustard as much as I do and 2: has seen me eat weirder things) and the other one, A., well. Her father eats mustard like this. Only with a slice of cheese on top as well. So, maybe it's not so weird after all? I don't know. Anyway, I find it amazing how I fail to write posts - and bake - I've been so preoccupied with studying this past week. It's ridiculous. Both my failure and the studying...I'm sorry, but I just don't give a damn about maleorgan(Yes. I did, in fact, just censor myself. I'm not sure if I'm allowed to say the p-word on here)envy. I feel like...Wow. I'm suffering from it, lovely. Wow. Can we please skip this and study something I don't already know? ;)
But this post isn't about maleorganenvy. Or Freud for that matter, who apparently isn't that big of a deal in psychology yet my coursebook keeps bringing him up. Someone explain that to me? This post isn't even about the awesomeness that is mustard (I'm just going to point out that despite that fact; I do love mustard, perhaps even more than I love potatos and that's saying something). It is about, well, nothing? Or rather, my dinner. So I suppose mustard is kind of integrated in all of this.
Oh hai there, tomato/chili-powder soup and swedish crispbread with Scanian mustard on it.
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