I just felt like.
Who saw the pigs flying last week? You may have missed them,but they were quite a sight.
I’m one of those writers who regularly uses repetition as a stylistic device,so let me just warn you now: what you are about to read has been vented about before.
I have been telling Wolverine how I’ll cook for him,only half-meaning to actually go through with it. This is for reasons that can be summed up in 4 words: Can’t Cook, Won’t Cook (and have no fs to give). This comes from a combination of…several things which are too interwoven to talk about,but let’s just say,I don’t have interest in it,and I like to spite this patriarchal society I live in. Because it’s fun. I laugh in the face of those men who say they can’t marry someone who can’t cook. That’s stupid. Cooking is something that can be changed,unlike height,or…girth. You can’t not marry someone because they have – heaven forbid – one flaw. This could,however,be the case if you have the emotional maturity and relationship experience of a 9 year old. Not marry someone because they can’t cook. sniggers
Then there’s the women who look down on my kind. Because,you know,if you can’t cook,it makes you less of a woman,because how will you nurture your man,blablabla. rolls eyes Sweetie,I am a woman not because I can throw down in the kitchen,but because I JUST AM. There is nothing that qualifies a woman as a woman. She just is. I have the bits to prove it,if prove it we must. Nothing makes you ‘more’ or ‘less’ of a woman,even said bits. (this post isn’t going the way I’d planned. Can you tell? breathe) Also,your grammar probably sucks,so there. Lol.
Moving on swiftly. Gripped by insanity,I decided that cooking was going to be done by me on said day last week. And not the tSN kind of cooking (which usually involves breakfast foods ONLY – sausages, French toast,that kind of thing),but bonafide,I-cut-onions-and-sh kind of cooking. Please keep in mind that I. DON’T. DO. THIS. Lol. And so,this experiment went like this.
1. Buy pasta and pre-cut chicken from the supermarket next door. (can’t go wrong with Kenchic,right? And then pick Santa Lucia pasta coz of the ad with @mayonde in it)
2. Read instructions on pasta (all the while thinking it can’t possibly be all that different from instant noodles, right? Ah,this packet is 5-7 minutes instead of 2-4. nods sagely)
3. Open pasta packet. Break pasta sticks in half. Set water to boil in kettle. Put oil in sufuria.
4. Discover that there are no tomatoes,and all all the onions are rotten,obviously,because of never cooking. Discover that,strangely,there are green peppers in the fridge. Put it down to an alien invasion. Decide one is too lazy to go to the store. Decide to use green peppers only.
5. Cut green peppers. Feel very proud of oneself. Put in sufuria with oil.
6. Wonders what to do next. Decides to let them fry for a bit and then pour the boiling water over them,then throw in the spaghetti.
7. 5-7 minutes later,checks the sufuria. Tastes a strand. Strand is raw. Makes choking noises. Spits out raw spaghetti. Sprawghetti. Ghett it?
8. 20 minutes later. Tastes again. Still spraw. 2 minutes later…then 5…realizes there is no salt. Throws in salt.
9. Eyes spice rack. Feels creative. Throws in curry powder. Considers Royco. Decides nay. Adds more salt.
10. 4 minutes later,it’s ready. Feels like putting in tomato paste after draining. Does. Remembers my brother used to put Blue Band on spaghetti after draining. Does.
11. Tastes. Vows never to put Blue Band on non-bread-like substances ever again. Decides I’m not a terrible cook,I’m an artsy one who doesn’t follow the steps in order.
12. Wolverine comes in,and I get…rewarded for even trying. All’s well that ends well.
p.s. Guess who went to a national park? ME! Guess who has photos that she will put up in her next post? ME,ME,ME!!