The breakup(s) (???) – Mug Brownie

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What exactly do you call it when guys you’ve been talking and going on dates with you stop messaging you? Is it a “break up”? I mean, I honestly don’t even know. That shit seems too serious, but like, lets be real anyway, we cry either way.
Or at least I do.
I wasn’t hugged enough as a child
I’m probably just a crybaby though; but I’m sure you’ve all figured that one out by now.

I recently distanced myself from a guy I really liked and dated for like a month due to the “relationship” (is it a relationship? I mean, technically speaking isn’t any constant interaction with another human a relationship? Like I have a relationship with Whiskey. My sister, I mean. Not the drink. I mean the drink) not going in the direction I was hoping.
was asked to go on an “afternoon delight” with him.
what.
my life is a comedy of errors.

 

So I woke up the next day feeling horribly shitty and decided that this was to be The Mourning Day of All Men Who Have Rejected Me.
You know this was going to be a long day for me.

I refused to wallow in bed especially long while, actually wallowing in bed longer than normal. I put on the Cake {you know i have to love a band with “cake” as the name} radio station on my phone, expecting some smarmy classic wit from the band, only to be bombard with “Love you madly” which made the act of putting pimple cream on my face particularly pathetic.

After throwing on some acceptable mourning clothing (ie sweats and an ugly free college shirt — no bra) I shuffled downstairs where I found the house to be empty. I was thinking of making myself chocolate chip cookies and freezing the rest of the batter, but that sounded like to much work for a woman with several broken hearts.
And plus, let’s be real. Freeze the extra? Who am I kidding, I’m fucking woofing them down.

I started texting Whiskey telling her I was going to bake cookies, and she replied asking if I could bake up something healthier.
Uhm, NO, I AM A WOMAN IN PAIN CAN’T YOU SEE? I NEED DEEP BUTTERY DELICIOUS BAKED GOODS TO HEAL MY SOUL.
And fuck that noise: Psh, healthy desserts. Doesn’t she know who I am?

My thoughts turned to something with honey temporarily in honor of the campus beekeeper-slash-campus-eastern spiritualist-vegan who I tried so hard to catch just to watch him slip through my fingers, like bees. Or something. The joke made more sense in my head.
He did however ended up adding me on snapchat few days later recently. aw yeah i’m such a babe not

But nah. None of my ideas seemed to be good enough. Everything produced too much, and my hazelnut financiers kept staring at me making me feel guilty for using up a whole stick of butter on them and not finishing them. It’s not that you’re bad, I promise I told the cute little cookie-cakes but you know how I have commitment issues with desserts. I can’t finish them all. I whispered sadly to them, and then realized I was talking to cookie-cakes and it was only 2pm.

I want to say some great reason compelled me to think of the brownie mug, but nothing really did. I just thought “wow I need a single serving of something with chocolate STAT” and then I thought “oh my gOD THE BROWNIE MUG YES BROWNIE MUG I HAVE NEVER MADE YOU BEFORE NOW IS THE CHANCE LETS DO IT”

Except I have. I’ve made it once before. EXACTLY ONCE. And it was with boxed mix. These were dark times of which we do not speak of anymore.

So I went hunting and searching for a mug brownie that didn’t have oil in it, because man, that shit sounds gross. {I know it’s not, I’m just dramatic.} I wanted to give you some really deep and technical reason for not having oil in your brownie, but I honestly can’t. It would make me a big hypocrite like men since I bake up a mean chocolate cake with oil instead of butter.
You want a reason for an oil-less brownie? I ain’t got none son. Just roll with the currents and shit.
Come on my stupendously sad ride of sorrow.

Oh, btw, the recipe I ended up picking is from Cooking Classy. Something about it just seemed right. I guess because the blog post was so cute and about how it’s eating chocolate to make you happy and shit, while mine is about how I’ve given up on men. Ehhhh. Close enough


The Mug Brownie
Serves: 1 – your lonely-ass self

Ingredients:
*2 tbsp butter
*1/4 cup packed whatever grade brown sugar you want. I like it dark son
*1 large egg
*1/4 tsp vanilla
*2 tbsp cocoa powder
*1/4 cup flour {I know right? it almost seems weird}
*1 “pinch” baking soda {dafuq?}
*1 pinch salt
*1/2 tsp instant coffee
*1 tsp hottest tap water
*handful of chocolate chips. if you want. i’m not gonna be the chocolate chip police
*ice cream and some other delicious shit to drizzle all over it that isn’t your sad salty tears

1. Hunt for a suitable mug. This is extremely crucial because this brownie is bigger than you think… and you don’t want to feel extra pathetic like it’s possible right? and eat from your Tigger mug from Disney World. I ended up choosing some cute artsy-fartsy wide bucket-mug with a painted fish on it from Portugal. Big surprise right?

2. Look at the original recipe and realize that it asked for salted butter. Uhm, excuse me what? What is this bullshit? Salted butter for baking? What the hell is this? Keep yelling at nobody in particular until you feel empty inside and never admit defeat by realizing you’re just extremely under prepared for life just because you happen to not have sticks of salted butter in your fridge. Instead hunt around for the “butter flavor-savor” and find that weird shaped nub of butter you used to butter your financier pans and throw it in the mug. close enough. Next, throw your brown sugar in there like it ain’t no thang.

3. Put your mug into the microwave and since I don’t know how to use my microwave, much less change the power settings how the fuck does anybody even figure that out, lets be real here kind of just nuke it in bursts of like 15 seconds and keep checking on your sugar-butter mixture. PLEASE USE AN OVEN MIT I AM NOT JOKING YOU WILL BURN YOUR HAND OFF. Apparently you’re supposed to use “microwave proof” mugs, but who the fuck owns those??? Certainly not MY house. AND I CHECKED. I ACTUALLY CHECKED ALL OF THE MUGS. I felt the need to be at least somewhat productive as a juxtaposition of my emptiness in my soul.

4. Once that shit is melted kind of vicariously stir it around with a fancy fork so you feel special. Crack an egg in there and whisk until you’re like “yeah okay this looks good”.

5. Throw in that cocoa powder and mix until you realize that its really damn hard to mix in cocoa powder, kind of sort of like trying to make conversation with men through text messages. You vigorously try your hardest, accumulating sweat on your brown and your arms inexplicably hurt when you’re done. Except in this baking case, you’ll actually get instant results.

6. Add in more dry shit, like your flour, baking powder, and salt. What is a pinch you ask? Well, I can’t help you. I actually have these obnoxiously labeled measuring spoons with sizes like “pinch” and “tad” and other really stupid fake bullshit sizes we use. So I dunno man. Guess? I ended up having to add two “pinches” of salt because I used unsalted butter. SHRUG. It’s alright because you can taste your mixture immediately and realize that this batter has not been going in the direction you’ve been hoping for. You don’t have to cook it, and get your hopes and dreams up before you end up realizing it’s gross and it grows legs and leaves you alone in your kitchen. NO FRIENDS, you can taste it!

7. It was around this point when I realized this brownie didn’t taste chocolately enough. Maybe it was my choice of cheap ass chocolate or maybe it was the recipe. But considering Cooking Classy is a really good blog with excellent recipes, better pictures, and an awesome selection of desserts, I’m just gonna wallow more and BLAME MYSELF THE CHOCOLATE IS SO CHEAP WHY NUTMEG WHY. So, grab a small bowl and put the instant coffee powder in it, and add your tsp of hot tap water. Mix that shit together and throw it in your mug. taste your sweet success. BE PROUD FOR YOU HAVE ADDED TO A RECIPE AND MADE IT BETTER. SEE YOU ARE WORTH LOVE AND AFFECTION.

8. Add as many chocolate chips as you want, baby, because it’s your day, and you do you. Put your mug into the microwave and nuke it in intervals of 15 seconds again, and take it out whenever the fuck you want. You want your brownie undercooked? YOU DO YOU. You want it fully cooked? KEEP NUKING IT. You’ll be able to tell when it’s done. If you’re really super fucking anal, I guess you can use a toothpick to check or something, but ehhhh why being so fancy when you’re just gonna eat it in your underwear and cry anyway?


Listen to me friends, while this might be my first time venturing into single-baking-dom, I have to admit, you gotta get crafty. I don’t have chocolate syrup lying around the house, because I’m a pretenious snot and I haven’t been able to find syrup without any extra weird chemicals in it, and not sweetened with high fructose corn syrup. Plus, that chocolate is never dark enough for me. i crave intense flavors, people.
So, go to your next best, {well, actually better} option and use SALTED CARAMEL ICE CREAM! You want a fucking gourmet dessert? BOOM YOU GOT IT. I dare you to find better while you’re wallowing and sobbing into your old college shirt.

Come, please do look at my pictures so you can feel totally good about yourself. Promise. My shit looks like…. well, shit.

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Butta nubbin’
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Really. Fucking. Hard. To. Mix

Please pardon my horrible photography skills. I was having a moment remembering how this one time I went on a date with one guy in the city he lived in, and I met him there at this food festival and he got himself lost. In the city he lives in. Lost.
Granted, it’s a big city and all, so it’s understandable. I can’t even drive from one end of my town to the next without my gps. Three days later I got the chopping axe.
In hindsight it’s hilarious. Kind of like mixing this FUCKING POWDER UGH WHY. So, my friends, take it one painstaking stir at a time. :~) Just spittin’ some wisdom here.

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Check out my bitching fish cup. U Jelly.

It’s such a cute mug I almost felt like I was on a date. With myself. Alone.

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This was taken after I burned off my fingers. you’re welcome
I started feeling like ass because literally 15 seconds before this, the brownie was beautifully cooked with a smooth top and a glossy finish, and I looked at it and I was like “nah man, this can get even more perfect. I’m not eating no soggy wet brownie.” and then I nuked it and regretted it like that one time I flirted with that one dude from my class and he asked me to do his homework. we were at a BAR

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beauty comes in one narrowly defined way: chocolate

So, I was nuking the shit out of this and I was like “I should totally clean the sides before I microwave this. It would make it prettier” and then I was like nahhh. it’s 4pm and i’m in my underwear. And that’s when you know you’ve made peace with yourself.
But like, for realises. I think I over nuked it, and so my mug brownie came out sort of dry. I don’t blame the recipe, since I think it’s fine. I think I’m just a dipshit and was too busy consuming myself in self-pity instead of, I dunno, paying attention.
Minor details though.

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Make sure you have a fancy spoon to feel special

You thought I was kidding with this ice cream. DOES THIS LOOK LIKE A JOKE SON? You grab your best salted caramel ice cream out of the fridge, peel off the frostbitten shit, and nuke it for like 10 seconds and you scope that on there and EAT.
Please friends, put more ice cream on your brownie. Drown it in that glorious frozen cow juice. I will have to live vicariously through you, due to my extremely debilitating dietary restriction of being lactose intolerant. Think of all of the ice cream I can’t eat!
Tragedy. The truest tragedy.

Make sure that when you’re done and got your hot little mug brownie and all of that delicious melted ice cream, you slink off to finally start watch Orange is the New Black, because hey, what’s a better way to completely eschew men then to watch women in prison make out with each other, amirite ladies?

Only to get two episodes in season one and start crying because Larry Bloom is supportive of his fiance going to prison, while simultaneously receiving a cryptic text message from the last boy you dated.

FUCK

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