Noodles Funny Quotes

Ish #1 "It's not your mama's macaroni and cheese if you used spaghetti noodles.

Fan would have expected that one or two of the Girls would have long rebelled at spending a life in a room, would have begged, say, the dentist, to help them steal away, but the funny thing about this existence is that once firmly settled we occupy it with less guard than we know. We watch ourselves routinely brushing our teeth, or coloring the wall, or blowing off the burn from a steaming yarn of soup noodles, and for every moment there is a companion moment that elides onto it, a secret span that deepens the original’s stamp. We feel ever obliged by everyday charges and tasks. They conscript us more and more. We find world enough in a frame. Until at last we take our places at the wheel, or wall, or line, having somewhere forgotten that we can look up.

A – Appy Chappy Noodle B – Booboo Belly Bubbles C – Captain Cheeky Chips D – Dizzy Doopsy Doodle E – Etsy Petsy Tootsie F – Furry Tickle Tilly G – Gummy Bunny Buttercup H – Hippy Wibbly Wobbly I – Iggy Biggy Baloo J – Jelly Jolly Jumbo K – Kissy Missy Munchkin L – Lazy Pippin Pupcake M – Moody Minty Monster N – Nutty Noodle Ninja O – Otty Chotty Chip P – Pickled Pepper Pin Q – Quinkle Choco Chap R – Rosy Nosy Muffin S – Silly Sugar Snaps T – Twinkle Tummy Tickle U – Upsy Nupsy Pumpkin V – Vanilla Clumsy Cookie W – Wiggly Wobbly Jelly X – Xippy Chip Cherry Y – Yummy Pummy Peach Z – Zinky Pinky Plum

I have been all over the world cooking and eating and training under extraordinary chefs. And the two food guys I would most like to go on a road trip with are Anthony Bourdain and Michael Ruhlmann, both of whom I have met, and who are genuinely awesome guys, hysterically funny and easy to be with. But as much as I want to be the Batgirl in that trio, I fear that I would be woefully unprepared. Because an essential part of the food experience that those two enjoy the most is stuff that, quite frankly, would make me ralph. I don't feel overly bad about the offal thing. After all, variety meats seem to be the one area that people can get a pass on. With the possible exception of foie gras, which I wish like heckfire I liked, but I simply cannot get behind it, and nothing is worse than the look on a fellow foodie's face when you pass on the pate. I do love tongue, and off cuts like oxtails and cheeks, but please, no innards. Blue or overly stinky cheeses, cannot do it. Not a fan of raw tomatoes or tomato juice- again I can eat them, but choose not to if I can help it. Ditto, raw onions of every variety (pickled is fine, and I cannot get enough of them cooked), but I bonded with Scott Conant at the James Beard Awards dinner, when we both went on a rant about the evils of raw onion. I know he is often sort of douchey on television, but he was nice to me, very funny, and the man makes the best freaking spaghetti in tomato sauce on the planet. I have issues with bell peppers. Green, red, yellow, white, purple, orange. Roasted or raw. Idk. If I eat them raw I burp them up for days, and cooked they smell to me like old armpit. I have an appreciation for many of the other pepper varieties, and cook with them, but the bell pepper? Not my friend. Spicy isn't so much a preference as a physical necessity. In addition to my chronic and severe gastric reflux, I also have no gallbladder. When my gallbladder and I divorced several years ago, it got custody of anything spicier than my own fairly mild chili, Emily's sesame noodles, and that plastic Velveeta-Ro-Tel dip that I probably shouldn't admit to liking. I'm allowed very occasional visitation rights, but only at my own risk. I like a gentle back-of-the-throat heat to things, but I'm never going to meet you for all-you-can-eat buffalo wings. Mayonnaise squicks me out, except as an ingredient in other things. Avocado's bland oiliness, okra's slickery slime, and don't even get me started on runny eggs. I know. It's mortifying.

BRAINSTORMING! Every night after dinner—which is usually something like tuna noodle casserole made with cream-of-wallpaper soup—I escape to the privacy of my bedroom.

Francesca Spaghetti let out a shriek as a tiger cub jumped up from behind the sofa and sat on a yellow cushion to lick its paws. It looked at her through pale golden eyes. “I know those eyes...” she thought to herself. Then, it “spoke” to her. It didn’t actually open its mouth and move its lips, it was just that Francesca Spaghetti could “hear” its thoughts and right now its thoughts were saying, “I wish I had some nice tuna fish to eat.” “Hold on,” said Francesca Spaghetti. “Is that you, Lulu?

A – Appy Chappy Noodle B – Booboo Belly Bubbles

Correction, Milasy was not just a she-bitch, she is an evil noodle-shaped troll. I forced some kind of expression on my face, I think it was a smile or maybe it was a grimace, I’m not exactly sure at the moment.

funny-faced noodle-brain!

In the days before computers and emails,” she explained, “people used to write messages on paper and send them to each other using a fax machine. It’s sort of like sending a photograph through a telephone line. Hardly anyone uses a fax these days. They’re very old fashioned,” she continued, “but they used to be very popular once upon a time. Lots of little children used to send their letters to Santa that way.” "Wow!” said Poppy Noodle. “That sounds like Magic.” “No,” answered Flora sharply. “That’s not Magic, that’s technology. Never confuse the two.

What do you call a fake noodle? An impasta.

When life gives you noodles, fork it!

Atticus: I've been working there four fucking weeks! I'm going to be eating ramen noodles for the rest of my life. Asher: Never tried them. Atticus: Dude, fucking disgusting. Trust me. Asher: Matilda's making roast au jus for dinner tonight with those homemade Yorkshire puddings you like. Atticus: I hate you. Loathe. Despise. Basically every synonym for hate there is. Asher: Call me? My phone rang a minute later, and I whined long and loud into the receiver in place of saying hello. I'd been accused of being overly dramatic in the past. There might be some truth behind it. Asher chuckled. "You're pathetic." "Why have you not run away with me? We've been separated. I can't stand it. It's like the individual cells in my body are trying to divide again and make another you. It hurts. I can't do it twice." I whimpered again for emphasis. "Ash, I'm screwed, and not in the bend me over the hood of the Jag and pound my ass type of way. The bad way. The painful way. The oh-crap-my-bank-account-is-in-the-negative way. I'm fast running out of ideas, and you're over there living the high life and eating roast au jus with my goddamn Yorkshire puddings." "I get the sense you're trying to tell me something, but whatever it is, it's getting lost in translation. You're rambling. What's going on? Speak-a the English. What's the problem?" "What isn't the problem? I'm poor and miserable. I was not ready for adulthood this soon. Tell Mom and Dad it was all lies. It was a phase. I'm over it. Ha, good joke, right?" "Riiight, and how do you propose I magically make the burned image of your mouth around Ryan Vector's cock disappear from Matilda's mind?" "Fuck. You know what? We don't need a housekeeper. Fire her ass! Tell Mom and Dad she's a big fat liar who lies and hates me. Tell them she's stealing from them. She's an illegal immigrant! No, tell them, she's a housekeeper by day and a hooker by night. I saw her walking the streets of Fifth Avenue after sundown in a mini skirt and fishnet stockings." I paused, envisioning our sixty-year-old housekeeper/used-to-be-nanny in that kind of attire. Asher and I both audibly ewwed at the exact same time. "Dude, that's fucking gross as shit, and you know it. I just threw up in my mouth. Why would you put that image in my head?" "I regret many of my life decisions. Add it to the list. Ash, I'm serious. Just make something up. Get rid of her. We don't need a housekeeper, and we're long past requiring a nanny. Especially one who walks into rooms without knocking. What was she thinking?" "The door wasn't closed." "Not the time, Ash!" "Okay, so let's pretend for five minutes Matilda dies in a horrible car crash." "We could make that happen.

Maggi’s tagline of ‘Taste Bhi, Health Bhi’, seems only half correct. Any nutritional expert will tell you that eating instant noodles for health is about as funny and implausible as using a cheap deodorant to attract dozens of women.

Yo mama is so lazy… she undercooks Ramen noodles! Yo mama is so lazy… she don’t have dining table because she is always in bed! Yo mama is so lazy… she stuck her head out the window to let the wind blow her nose! Yo mama is so lazy… she was late to her “stay at home” job! Yo mama is so lazy… she thinks a two-income family is where the man has two jobs. Yo mama is so lazy… she arrived late at her own funeral. Yo mama is so lazy… she stole your identity to spend more time with you! Yo mama is so lazy… her to-do list says, “Nothing!” Yo mama is so lazy… she starved instead of getting up to get some food. Yo mama is so lazy… that she came in last place in a recent snail marathon. Yo mama is so lazy… she's got a remote control just to operate her remote control!

Yo mama is so lazy… she undercooks Ramen noodles!