For the last 48 hours I have failed to acquire noodles.
It's not exactly a challenge to the Great White Hunter, is it? It's not as if they run really fast, or have sharp claws, or only live on one small island in the Pacific ocean...
Yet still they elude me. Invisible carbohydrate worms that fly in the night. Snug in their vaccuum packs, they mock my failure.
But I will have my vengeance. Soon they will feel the heat of my sesame oil, and taste the wrath of my soy sauce. This I swear on the graves of my forefathers. No more Mr. Nice Guy. Those little bastards will wish they'd never been extruded.
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