I dare you! That, my dears, is a jello concoction of the vilest kind. The innocent goldfish bowl rendered in jello, cake, and assorted chewy candy. Revolting.
But, in case you are having people you despise over for dinner, here is the recipe link. But please be merciful and don’t feed them lima beans, too.
You know what this recipe is missing? Sharks with fricking laser beams on their heads.
It’s disgusting. It wiggles, jiggles, bounces light, tastes like plastic, typically topped with that fake whipped cream. It’s wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
When I was six I had food poisoning and spent 6 days in hospital. After two days without food, I was allowed to eat jello. For breakast. For lunch. For supper. A different coloured pile of jello cubes three times a day for four awful days. It took me an hour to chew/swallow a handfull of measly cubes of jello. The nurses thought I was nuts. “What kid doesn’t like jello?” they’d ask me when I would whine and beg for cereal, oatmeal, a cheese sandwich, good grief, anything but jello.
Who invented jello? What sick twisted mind figured blending the collagen from cows tendons with bright bright dye would make a tasty dessert treat?
Or, have you ever had a plate of salad, really it’s fruit stuck in some kind of homeostatis within the gelatin. Hideous!
Green jello? Check out this recipe – it looks like molded vomit:
VINGADA 