Last night my wife called me from her car, where she was stuck in traffic, and uttered words that strikes fear in the heart of every red-blooded American male living in my domicile: "Would you mind cooking dinner tonight?"
I don't know how things are done in your house, but in my house the only thing I'm allowed to "cook" is PB & J sandwiches and grilled cheese. I can also make a mean bowl of cereal. I'm actually pretty good at breakfast - eggs, grits, biscuits, etc - which just goes to show you how easy it is to make breakfast. Okay, and steaks, but every man can make steaks, so those don't count.
Here is what I was instructed to make:
2. Mashed potatoes
Sounds simple enough. However, here are the results, in corresponding order:
1. Too much seasoning on the fish kept our stomachs from being able to process it. Actually, I ate all of the fish, but was unable to feel my legs for the rest of the night;
2. Mashed potatoes came out great, if you like gummy taters; and
3. Asparagus is my house is now known as ass-paragus. I was supposed to use the Balsamic Vinegar but couldn't find it, so resorted to using Raspberry Walnut Vinegarette, which, by the way, does not go well with ass-paragus. I also used garlic powder instead of actual garlic, only to find out that garlic powder does not have the same affect on vampires as garlic cloves. I feel like I should have been told this over the phone.
I'm fine with computers... computers I can understand. Give me a byte over a spatula any day, and I'll be okay. Maybe I just need to automate my kitchen. Hmm....
So I guess what I'm saying is, Honey, I appreciate you more than ever. Also, I will be ordering pizza if you are going to be late tonight.
The Existential Terror of Battle Royale
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