Microwave It Jack Ass...

I’m a total asshole when it comes to doing anything in the kitchen. I’m going to be one of those people who lies to the spouse about the meal “I” prepared. How long will I be able to keep up the masquerade? I’ve proven that I am just not meant to be alone with an oven. Some people aren’t cut out for cooking you know. Am I a disgrace to my mother’s womb? Yes, of course. But I’m not good at computers either so there might be something there. I just suck at kitchen shit.

Put it this way. About six months or so ago, I was trying to prepare a nice hot marshmallowey cup of hot chocolate so that I can get a long quiet night’s sleep. Um, yeah, I nearly burnt up the whole fucking house. It was all going down in flames right before my eyes. I was watching TV like a jackass trying to figure out that National Treasure reality show thing.

Anyway, I thought I smelled something funny. I thought, wow, maybe the heater just kicked in. Smells like fire. I just kept doing what I’m doing because I’m fucking insane. Well, a minute later I remembered the milk on the stove! The milk on the stove! Why am I boiling milk? The microwave is an appliance that is friendly to someone on my skill level and I should look into that option more often.

I ran to the kitchen and there it was. My entire life flashing before me. The first thing I remembered was the time guy butchered my hair saying that I’d love it. I hated it, those rotten ass crooked bangs, and I hated him for an entire summer. And then I saw the light and as I started walking toward it like Carol Anne, I came to and realized I had better fight for this life. This fabulous life in Birmingham where I could go on a date with a great someone only to find myself uncomfortably having the "Cool it now... We’ve got to slow it down... Ooh... Watch out," talk because he just inappropriately asked me to – get ready -- return his rental car the next morning. That should be read aloud, screaming actually. It really blows my mind. Such a shame. I really liked him. Does anybody else think that's weird?

But hello, you can’t really talk about your dating life on the Internet and then expect to date some more. Even if you do speak glowingly of a person and I can speak quite glowingly of Rental Car. He was cool. I can’t talk about this. Well, shit, all that shit I just mentioned above happened to a friend of mine. That crazy friend of mine. Dating is off the chain, and my friends all suggest I keep doing it specifically to write a book about my luck, or lack of, with it. Fuck, I should ghostwrite that. Oh yes I am. For my friend as I said earlier. My friend.

Shall I attempt to make another cup of hot chocolate?