I think I am a little… off these days. I have nothing else to offer you other than specific instructions on how not to cook dinner.
*All instructions are direct results of thorough investigation and experimentation by scholars of the 25tofly cooking institute on 11/26/2012 at 6:00pm.*
Nah, actually these instructions result from my lack of fluid motor skills and general cognition without wearing my LJs and consuming alcohol while cooking. If you learn anything from this, it is that you never deviate from standard protocol.
1. Buy all ingredients for a slightly unconventional Thanksgiving meal because you never got to eat any leftovers at your parents house. Include a rotisserie chicken in place of a turkey.
2. Get home and put that chicken (plastic container and all) in the oven just to keep in some of the warmth. Leave oven off.
3. Make candied yams that look like baby food mush because you bought the wrong canned yams. Ignore this and add brown sugar to feel like you are still making it the correct way.
4. Set sweet potato slop aside and cut veggies for stuffing while slicing fingernail in half. Be thankful it wasn’t your entire finger.
5. Begin mixing the stuffing even though you realize you don’t have enough sherry to complete the recipe.
6. Forget about
turkey chicken in oven and preheat to 400 degrees.
7. Add way more melted butter to the stuffing than you usually do, because the stuffing is acting like Rain-X to all moisture attempts.
8. Realize you left the chicken in the oven.
9. Panic and spill your apple cider.
10. Pull out mutated, and now surely radioactive plasticken.
11. Turn off oven and try to separate chicken from plastic container.
12. Try a piece, almost choke, and realize you will have to discard all of the chicken skin.
13. Place sides in the oven to bake for twenty minutes, but burn your hand while you are at it.
14. When the timer goes off, pull out your sides being careful not to burn your other hand.
15. You turned the oven off in step 11, dumbass.
16. Preheat oven again after you step in that drink you spilled but forgot to clean up. Your socks are now properly wet and gross and sad.
17. Bake sides for another twenty minutes while you stave off starvation by eating half of the rotisserie chicken.
18. When sides are finished baked (for real this time LOL), make yourself a plate.
19. Top it off with a roll that you smashed while trying to butter with cold butter.
20. Congratulations, you are no longer hungry. Now, put everything in tupperware, and do the dishes in scalding water to make sure you irritate your burn.
I’ll be ordering take-out tonight. You should too.
- Make-Ahead Tips for Novice Thanksgiving Cooks (readramble.typepad.com)
- Let Your Kids do the Cooking this Thanksgiving! (cdmfun.wordpress.com)
- Thanksgiving Recap: Sweet Potato Bake (youfoodisnotsogreat.wordpress.com)
If you don’t already know about Robert Hookey’s new book The Bellman Chronicles, you fail at internet, reading, and life. Just kidding… or am I?
I have been following his blog, You’ve Been Hooked, for quite some time now. The Hook handles his profession very seriously but knows when to poke fun at all that comes along with it. His hilarious takes on the wide variety of characters and situations he encounters on the clock as a Bellman are always a pleasure to read (to put it simply). So, when I read that he published a book, I knew I had to check it out.
If you want me to get all mushy about it, I’ll say that I look up to him as a writer and think he is generally an outstanding human being and shit. He also is one of my top commenters/cheerleaders. It took me a while to get to it on my to-do list, but I finally ordered a copy which came to my doorstep last night. I’m considering it a Chrsitmas-in-October present to myself. You should do the same.
I’d also like to give a present to you while I am at it. My gift comes in the form of a recipe, but you will have to read my little story first. Get excited. Read the rest of this entry
[Look! I have a really cheesy cover, and I am cheap, but it’s what’s on the inside that counts, right? Click my obnoxious cover to buy me on Amazon. Yay!
[Also, the title says “for grown-up girls”, but that shouldn’t stop the fellas from checking it out. Would I steer you wrong? Well, not intentionally at least.]
I returned to reality and a Sunday of cooking stuffed bell peppers with a new addition to slide onto my make-shift bookshelf. In her normal fashion, Booger handed down a book to me as an early Birthday present. Its title is The Merit Badge Handbook for Grown-up Girls by Lauren Catuzzi Grandcolas. Her name makes my jaw hurt a bit, and I didn’t even attempt saying it out loud. Filled with activities, projects, goal ideas, and new learning/experience opportunities, you could think of this book as a sort of generalized bucket list and guide. My initial appreciative reaction was quickly followed with eagerness to start flipping pages. Upon doing so, something unexpected happened.
The beginning of this year had me sulking in the realization of all the things I have yet to do in/with my life. I have a hard time being patient when on a quest. Nothing was helping, especially not seeing all the cool stuff other people around me were doing. Then, I began writing again and went from sulking to basking in the new-found determination I had to start doing things. New or different or scary or silly or constructive or whatever kind of things, it didn’t matter. No more ruts. Read the rest of this entry
[The good thing about rock bottom is that you can only go up, right? Also, those feelings of jealousy you’re have over my glittery clutch… they are normal. I am usually way more flashy, but it was the casino, so I figured I would tone it down.]
Over the weekend, I traveled to my home town (Shreveport, LA) for the first time in almost half a year. Jazzy and I cruised on up to S-town
early not early enough on Saturday. Our ride went a little like this:
- Miss McDonald’s breakfast by five minutes? Done.
- Configure my iPod plugger upper thingy in a secure position. Roger that.
- Get frusterated with epic static interferance. Yep.
- Re-rig Ipod connector looping it over the rear view mirror like fuzzy dice. There we go.
- Attempt to drive without a swinging Iphone smashing in to my window and/or face. Check.
Surprisingly we didn’t die from flying cell phone attacks or boredom. In fact, after three hours of trying to woo Pandora Radio to
play period play what we wanted, we arrived feeling quite alive. Although I am not sure why, we were also feeling lucky.
The Shreveport/ Bossier area basically consists of two attractions. Restaurants and casinos. If you ever need to gain weight and lose all your money, now you know where to go. You’re welcome. I will make one serious recommendation however, if you find yourself here, go to Superior Bar & Grill and get one of these: Read the rest of this entry
I make an effort to buy two different flower arrangements (the cheap ones that are usually ignored but are still just as pretty) once every week or two for each of my vases. I starting doing this when I heard or read somewhere that it can help brighten your mood. I’ve kept doing it ever since, so I guess it works. These flowers were my favorite of the two I picked up yesterday. I didn’t even catch what the name of these were, and I don’t even care. Lie! If you have an eye for this sort of thing , speak up… learn me something. The point is, when I wake up with this little bit of life staring me in the face and give them a whiff, I am suddenly able to hone in on my optimistic side. It’s the little positive things… Do them because you can.
Before my horticultural hunt Sunday morning, I slept in until my eyes would stay sealed no more. That’s when I made a grocery list (laughing at myself later for forgetting trash bags). So, while my trash would be chilling in the nude shortly due to my lackluster list making skills, I did manage to grab something not on my grocery list (naturally). Coffee. I have been the obviously not so proud owner of a single cup coffee brewer since I moved away from home six years ago. It has never been used. Quite sadly, not once. Read the rest of this entry