Its all because of the Indian Housewives cookbook.
It had to go and be bought by my dad, who technically shouldn't have even be allowed to buy it since he is clearly not Indian nor a woman.
And it had to contain hundreds of ridiculously hot, eye watering recipes of curries, all of which could possibly kill someone if they eat too much.
And it had to cause my dad to start cooking curries more because of his intense excitement of the curry hot-ness, causing, in turn, more curries to be eaten by me.
Curries like, perhaps, the one I just ate tonight.
The chicken vindaloo one.
That might just have turned my mouth into a mushy, jelly-like substance that will possibly never be able to eat again.
Lets have salad tomorrow.
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