I'm an unfit girl, y'know like an unfit parent that has their children taken away. If they could take away my breasts or something for being unfit, they probably should or they would if they could. Granted, I don't know who "they" are, but you get the point.
Okay, first of all, I really can't cook all that well. I mean, I can cook well enough to get by, and I have a few signature dishes that are not too bad, but my roommate, who actually does cook fancy stuff that intimidates me, has all of these kitchen accoutrements that confound and confuse me.
The kitchen kind of scares me sometimes. There are people who can enter anyone's kitchen, survey the utensils and ingredients and immediately conjure up a pretty decent meal. I've seen it happen. Meanwhile, I'm sitting at the counter, drinking wine or coffee, half-heartedly saying, "Can I help?" hoping to God they don't say "yes," because outside of chopping stuff, some culinary projects are beyond my comprehension.
The strange thing is, I don't eat out all that often, so what does that mean? It means I eat a ton of pasta, because I can actually boil water,(one burn incident aside) and I buy a ton of frozen food that has the nutritional equivalent of eating cardboard.
That is something that I am determined to change and perhaps living with someone who genuinely enjoys cooking will rub off on me in some small way.
The second reason I should have my ovary privileges revoked is that I am a total idiot about all things decorative. My wish is to be so rich that I can have someone decorate my living space, because if it were up to me, my apartment would have bare walls, and people would likely sit on boxes as furniture. There would be books as far as the eye could see, but in terms of decorating, that's really not a good thing.
I know what things I like, but in terms of having random crap (which I do) look good placed just so on a coffee table or hanging on the wall, etc..I'm completely clueless. Again, my roommate, who is a an artist, is pretty much wholly responsible for the decoration of our apartment, and thank God for that.
My one contribution is a Guatemalan rain stick that a drummer ex-boyfriend gave me in high school, and it has gone everywhere I've lived since then. Now, it has a Clinton/Gore button and a Kerry/Edwards sticker on it to kind of demonstrate its longevity, but, seriously, that's it for my decorating abilities. So sad.
And while cooking can be learned, I don't know that I'll ever have that intrinsic ability to know what looks good where and be at some random flea market and say "Wow, that monkey's toe would go excellently on the shelf next to the television."
I recognize that I have other talents, and while they're not always apparent to me, I know they're there. I can engage in witty repartee, write a good letter and make people feel comfortable. There are more, but those are the ones that leap to mind, at least that I can write when my mom might read this, so there you go.
Maybe I'll get to keep my girl privileges for the moment, but I don't think I'll be Martha Stewart's "Apprentice" anytime soon.
4 comments:
despite your harsh cooking comments i can say that you cook a mean pot of pasta. although every other part of the meal was made by someone else, who will remain nameless, the pasta was by far the biggest hit. and let me tell you, you make one hell of a good frozen pizza. but you know what the best thing is? it's not the food, or the wine, not even the end table i had to sit on because you didn't have enough chairs, it's the company you keep and the joy of eating with someone who's conversation you enjoy. so in that regard i'd eat burned frozen pizza with you anytime.
Awww; you're sweet, and it's really pretty funny that you had to sit on an end table.
You forgot the manicotti, however..and I will redeem myself from the frozen pizza mishap.
who wants to be martha's apprentice anyway? you'd probably just end up in the jailhouse next to paula abdul and michael jackson. :)
Geez, talk about the 10th circle of hell...
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