Babies are one of the smallest types of human. Of course there are zygotes, and fetis, and all other tiny permutations, but because they don’t leave home, even for grand parties, they’re not quite as much fun to adore. Babies, on the other hand, love parties. They’re the original party people. I doubt Adam and Eve attended any parties before their first baby invited them. They’re also the original party poopers. Babies’ diet consist mainly of breastmilk, though some consume a white beverage created from a powder that is usually found in large cans. Despite the fact they’re on a liquid diet and often purge, babies gain weight extremely quickly. Because babies are too small and floppy to view themselves in a full length mirror, they rarely lose self-confidence over their chubby physiques. Babies enjoy singing; they have naturally operatic voices and attempt to sing in Italian, though ignorant grown humans assume they’re just babbling. Babies are sometimes oppressed by grown humans who dress them in mittens. Babies must withstand facial itches and the inability to grasp writing implements whilst wearing mittens. Babies are therefore unable to sign important legal documents and Baby Bonuses etc are claimed by babies’ parents. Babies are very forgiving and continue to bring joy to their parents and attend parties for all their days until they are grown and adopt the oppressive ways of the adult human.
There are no dress up games on Steam.
2 1/4 cups hazelnut meal (180 g)
2 cups caster sugar (200g)
1/2 cup cocoa powder (30g)
4 large egg whites, room temperature
1 cup sugar (180g, granulated)
1/4 cup water
approx 1 cup Nutella
Line 2-3 baking sheets with parchment paper.
Sift together hazelnut meal (finely ground hazelnuts), confectioners’ sugar and cocoa powder into a large bowl. Add in two egg whites and stir mixture until it comes together into a very thick dough. This may take a few minutes, but the mixture will eventually all come together.
In a small saucepan, bring granulated sugar and water to a rolling boil.
Meanwhile, in another large mixing bowl, beat remaining two egg whites until frothy. When sugar mixture comes to a boil, beat egg whites to soft peaks. With the mixer on medium speed, drizzle the hot sugar mixture into the egg whites very slowly until all of the syrup has been incorporated and you have a thick, fluffy meringue.
Take 1/3 of the meringue mixture and mix it into the chocolate paste with the electric mixer. Fold in remaining meringue in two or three additions.
Transfer batter to a piping bag (or plastic bag) with an approx 1 cm opening. Pipe dough onto prepared baking sheets to form 1-inch discs (approx 1 1/2 tbsp per disc); batter will spread slightly after piping. Leave about 1-inch between discs on the baking sheet. Once all of the batter has been piped out, let the macarons sit at room temperature for about 20 minutes to form a “skin” that will give them a smooth, shiny top during baking.
While the macarons sit, preheat the oven to 180.
Bake macarons for about 11-12 minutes, until the tops are set.
Cool on the baking sheet for 2 minutes before transferring them to a wire rack to cool completely.
Once macarons are cool, sandwich them together with about 1 teaspoon of Nutella. There is no need to be exact with this measurement, just so long as there is a thin layer between each pair of cookies.
Cookies are probably best served on the day they are made, but can be stored at room temperature for a day or two (resulting in a slightly chewier cookie, but still with good flavor).
Makes about 36 sandwich cookies.
I think so… they’re being printed.
- Navin R. Johnson: Now be totally honest. You do have a boyfriend don’t you.
- Marie: Kind of
- Navin R. Johnson: I know this is our first date but do you think the next time you make love to your boyfriend you could think of me?
- Marie: Well I haven’t made love to him yet.
- Navin R. Johnson: That’s too bad. Do you think its possible that someday you could make love with me and think of him?
- Marie: Who knows maybe you and he could make love and you could think of me.
- Navin R. Johnson: I’d be happy to be in there somewhere.
- [in bed]
- Navin R. Johnson: You look so beautiful and peaceful, you almost look dead. And I’m glad, because there’s something I want to say that’s always been very difficult for me to say [pause] “I slit the sheet, the sheet I slit, and on the slitted sheet I sit.” There. I’ve never been relaxed enough around anyone to say that.
“Où sont mes boutons!? Sont ils dans ma bouche!?”
Depuis ta naissance, tu as fait acquisition de langue.
Mais, est-ce que tu as acquis la capacité de lecture? Ou, as-tu appris?
Je ne sais pas. Je vais écrire ma théorie… dans un essai… et présenter demain.
Je suis une peu malade. Je trouve Français plus facile de lire… mais, ne parler pas (?)
Je vous aime, petits boutons.
My library offers iPads for the completion of their survey. The sage scholars of the palatial novelty are appalled; much like the religious leaders of our time, and past, tied in dated (but not the least part romantic) attire. I, too, am appalled by the institutionalised “douche”. Indeed, one glance at the iPad’s brilliant screen, at the sounding of a displaced pronoun, the multitudes of palatial novelty exclaim in disgust (or, French) “Douche”. Such linguistic anomaly is as fascinating as an ant in tap shoes… and I believe it may be indicative of an innate, plurilingual desire to be clean (or, an innate desire to bathe oneself, en province). It seems veritable to assume “shower” as an imperative; the pragmatic entailment being “Cleanse yourself, my library, of this iFilth that taints your shelves.” Of course, superficial research (Google Translate) discredits such interpretations entirely. “Douche”, unlike “Shower”, is not a verb.
If “douche” was a verb (with “doucher” as infinitive) it would be conjugated in the present tense like this:
1st person singular “Je douche”
2nd person singular “Tu douches”
3rd person singular “Il/Elle/On douche”
1st person plural “Nous douchons”
2nd person plural “Vous douchez”
3rd person plural “Ils/Elles douchent”
The only imperative forms of such a verb are “douches, douchons, douchez”, not “douche”. What ever do the scholars imply by such a remark? Perhaps that the iPad itself is a shower. What evidence have we of their synonymy?
-Daily use of the iPad ensures one’s state of uncleanliness, pomposity and vulgarity.
-Daily use of the shower ensures one’s state of cleanliness, refinement and decency.
If we plot the two, say, on a piece of pastry, and then line a pie tin with the same piece, the iPad and shower are essentially the same thing (flour, butter, and cold water).
Most scholars are fond of pie.