today's unholy smell is brought to you by my fridge.
honestly, i open the thing maybe once every 3 weeks. i opened it last night to put in the leftovers from my lovely restaurant made meal.
the smell that hit me was satanic. and being the professional slackass that i am, rather than actually *gasp* clean the fridge and dispose of whatever had mutated in there, i tossed in the white styrofoam container and shut the door before i passed out from the fumes.
i almost never cook. why should i when take out is so much easier? i am a busy, on the go gal. i got things to do, people.
now granted, i CAN cook, kinda. i can follow a recipe and make something that barely meets the definition of 'edible.' barely.
how did it come this, you might be asking yourself? actually, you are more than likely asking yourself. "why i am reading this chick's blog when i could be surfing for free porn or researching my family tree online?" and if those two activites are one and the same, my condolences. back to my point.
i live alone for the most part. and cooking for one, for lack of a better word, sucks. but, let's say i am feeling ambitious and decide to make a casserole.
ok, so i go to the store and spend $40 on 'ingredients' because we know i have nothing in my fridge. back home, i spend 90 minutes making said casserole. and it's edible, barely. then i have to spend another 20 minutes doing dishes. so far i have invested $40.56 (the 56 cents is for the bandaids i used after damn near slicing a finger off because the bell pepper got away from me.) and 110 minutes on this damned meal.
now i have 'leftovers.' i figure i should eat these 'leftovers' and get most out my investment.
Diary of a Leftover Casserole
Day 1 - still edible. maybe even a little better than last night because the flavors have had a chance to infuse themselves. (i picked up that phrase from the food network. don't i sound like a chef now?)
Day 2 - ugh. do i have to eat this crap again? who's bright idea was it to fucking cook?
Day 3 - seriously, i would kill my dog for a big mac.
Day 4 - the casserole mocks me.
Day 5 - casserole has grown a head. when i open the fridge, the casserole screams at me, "shut the damn door! you are letting out all the cold air, bitch!" casserole has a potty mouth.
Day 6 - "hello, pizza hut? i would like to order one large pizza with pineapple. you know the address."
it's obvious no man is ever going to marry me for my cooking skills. thank god i am good in bed.