I hate making mashed potatoes. I hate the peeling, hot or cold. I hate the fucking mashing. It's hard. It hurts my little arm, makes my fingers go all crampy. I hate the fucking clean up too. I might as well cook super glue for all the ease with which the potato comes off the pot, whether it's been soaked or not. And it seems to attach to any other piece of cookware within a fucking ninety mile radius too. The taste, while wonderfully buttery and and fluffy and fluttery makes up not one jot for the labour that comes before and after. I fucking hate making fucking mashed potatoes.
I know you want the hate, folks, and that's about all that I hate today.
I know, I know. I think it's the drugs. Love you drugs!