Problem Solved!

So…only three more sleeps til the BIG POT LUCK EVENT…and I thought next week was hell week! Dear Gawd I had not counted on the outside pressure put upon me about this thing. Here I thought I could just quietly drive myself insane…privately…but oh no…everyone’s jumpin’ on the band wagon. Not that driving me insane is much of a trip, some might argue I have already arrived.
Anyway, I digress…it’s all about the pot luck ain’t it.
Everyday I’ve worked this week…pre- Hell Week week….when there are a million things to be done, barcodes to be found, fabric to be measured and wrapped, signs to be made, a billion pounds of something to me moved somewhere…everybody seems oddly focused on what I am bringing to Pot Luck.
Or is it just me?
Could I be alittle over sensitive about the subject?
I am sure there is no way they could know about that sick feeling I get in my stomach every time they ask what I’m bringing.

I am trying to believe this is just pot luck culture…you know…so and so wanting to know if your dish blends with their dish…and whether there will be a nice mixture on the table….but then again because they are mostly all aware of my….let’s say…short comings…in the kitchen…I feel like they are….taunting me…or lookin’ for a heads up as to which dish to NOT eat that night.
And then Miss J asked point blank(the very SAME Miss J who stole…..right out from under me…Alfie’s brilliant ice cream cake idea…so she wouldn’t have to cook…cough cough.. bitch!.. cough ) …she’s makin a list…time to commit to something.
Commit to something?
What?
Suicide?

I am wracking my brain for an answer while listening to everyone else rhyme off the fancy things they are bringing…half of which, I must admit, I don’t even know if they are real food.
All I could think of is black and crispy
Something black and crispy.
Is that committed enough?
Is someone else bringing that?
Can we move on now?
Can everyone STOP asking me if I know about M&M’s? (And just for the record here…I most certainly do know about M&M’s…and like I said….I DON’T CARE FOR THE PEANUT ONES!) How does that help me cook? If I eat enough…does it make me cook better…or just too sick to attend…which, I guess would indeed solve my little problem and theirs too!

I am a princess…a perfect princess…I should be worrying about which gown to wear to the ball….not this cooking shit.
Ya want to know the truth. I’ve decided.
I am not cooking anything.
I’m bringing in a chef…two actually…from a far away kingdom…cuz I AM a Princess…and Princesses have People. I am bringing in the cooking People.
And they will make whatever I ask (beg) them too…and it won’t be black and crispy. And I won’t have to hurt myself trying to make the stove turn on, nor take a chance on the shaky…yet to be proven skills of a local chef who’s come forward (and frankly…just may suck as bad as me), or be worried my dish will stand out for all the wrong reasons.
I got this one beat!

PROBLEM SOLVED!!!
Now if I could just find someone to shine up my glass slippers…

I’d be laughin’