Burnt Offerings
We went to a great sale today, at Beige Mans office, or precisely, a tent located in the parking lot. It was a great sale, no fabric, but lets just say...we're gonna look mighty spiffy this season if I do say so myself.
I had never been to Beige Man's office before so took the opportunity to look around the digs, and meet several of his co-workers. I politely exchanged pleasantries with them and all was well til one lovely lady offered up the fact that Beige Man speaks highly of me, particularly my amazing cooking skills.
I swear I heard traffic on the 401 screech to a halt.
Moi? Amazing in the kitchen? Oh ma'am, you must have me confused with his girlfriend. I do indeed have talents (I must?), but they so do not lie within the boundaries of the....the..k-k-kitchen.
It all started back in cooking class... high school home-ec.....which sadly, but deservedly, I failed. I come from a family with an above average number of relatives who have made good livings cooking...bakery owners, one who ran a hospital's food services (and while no one raves about that food, it does take tremendous skill to get supper on the table for several hundred at one time).
Anyway
Ya'd think genetically...just maybe I'd have gotten some of that....wouldn't ya? I guess since I got the big ass and guy feet genes...there was no room for the cooking gene.
And I do try...really.
I can't help it that I did not know you had to actually cook the pasta before you put it in a pasta salad, or...or that you had to take all that crap in the cavity of the turkey out of the turkey before you cook it...what the hell is it in there for?
I can't help it that the smoke alarm is what alerts everyone that it's time for dinner and I can't help it that I don't know which spices go with which spices and that onion powder and garlic powder are not the same thing...even if they both are white.
I am hopeless, I know it, I'm okay with it. I politely smiled when my mother told me....at a time in my life when it appeared I would have more free time, that maybe I should do something just for me...like cooking classes. That's the way your mother tells you...you suck in the kitchen.
But I'm okay with it.
I gotta live with the big ass and the guy feet, I am one with suckin' in the kitchen too.
My dear friend M....no wait...let's start again. My Ex-dear friend M reminded me on the way home from Beige Man's office, that I am the only person she has ever heard of in her entire old life that ever set fire to rice. She was amazed it could be done, and thinks she should contact the Guinness Book of Records about it.
Told ya I got talent!
We went to a great sale today, at Beige Mans office, or precisely, a tent located in the parking lot. It was a great sale, no fabric, but lets just say...we're gonna look mighty spiffy this season if I do say so myself.
I had never been to Beige Man's office before so took the opportunity to look around the digs, and meet several of his co-workers. I politely exchanged pleasantries with them and all was well til one lovely lady offered up the fact that Beige Man speaks highly of me, particularly my amazing cooking skills.
I swear I heard traffic on the 401 screech to a halt.
Moi? Amazing in the kitchen? Oh ma'am, you must have me confused with his girlfriend. I do indeed have talents (I must?), but they so do not lie within the boundaries of the....the..k-k-kitchen.
It all started back in cooking class... high school home-ec.....which sadly, but deservedly, I failed. I come from a family with an above average number of relatives who have made good livings cooking...bakery owners, one who ran a hospital's food services (and while no one raves about that food, it does take tremendous skill to get supper on the table for several hundred at one time).
Anyway
Ya'd think genetically...just maybe I'd have gotten some of that....wouldn't ya? I guess since I got the big ass and guy feet genes...there was no room for the cooking gene.
And I do try...really.
I can't help it that I did not know you had to actually cook the pasta before you put it in a pasta salad, or...or that you had to take all that crap in the cavity of the turkey out of the turkey before you cook it...what the hell is it in there for?
I can't help it that the smoke alarm is what alerts everyone that it's time for dinner and I can't help it that I don't know which spices go with which spices and that onion powder and garlic powder are not the same thing...even if they both are white.
I am hopeless, I know it, I'm okay with it. I politely smiled when my mother told me....at a time in my life when it appeared I would have more free time, that maybe I should do something just for me...like cooking classes. That's the way your mother tells you...you suck in the kitchen.
But I'm okay with it.
I gotta live with the big ass and the guy feet, I am one with suckin' in the kitchen too.
My dear friend M....no wait...let's start again. My Ex-dear friend M reminded me on the way home from Beige Man's office, that I am the only person she has ever heard of in her entire old life that ever set fire to rice. She was amazed it could be done, and thinks she should contact the Guinness Book of Records about it.
Told ya I got talent!
posted by Nad at 5:25 p.m.
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