Sunday, May 2, 2010

A little arsenic never hurt anyone!

Steele is convinced I'm trying to poison him. Now, before anyone starts getting any silly notions in their noggins, let me just say that NO, I'm not now, nor have I ever purposely poisoned Steele.
Sure, it's been known to happen once or twice but please take note of my use of the word purposely. And come on! Who hasn't poisoned a loved one at some point? With all the eating we do it's bound to happen.

For those of you still judging me, allow me to explain.

I don't cook.

There is very little I enjoy about it. The small triumph I feel when I do concoct something that actually turns out well is quickly diminished the moment I survey the complete havoc that I've wreaked on the kitchen. There have been times, if given the choice, I would have condemned the kitchen for demolition rather than face cleaning the calamity in front of me.
All that shopping, preparation, measuring, mixing, not to mention the absolutely revolting task of handling raw meats. And for what? Only to watch my boyfriend devour my labor of love in 5 minutes or less.

Thank you, I'll pass.

And so we've taken to consuming various combo meals at an alarming rate. And it's killing. my. soul.
With every bite of suspect meat that's been deep fried to a palatable goodness, I could almost hear my arteries give a little sigh and die a sad little death.
In an attempt to slow the inevitable rebellious insurrection our bodies are sure to enact any day now, I decided to make us dinner at home.
Chicken parmigiana with rotini pasta, homemade sauce, a caesar salad and garlic bread. It was one of those rare occasions when the meal turned out better than mediocre.
To my delight Steele wolfed down two big helpings and declared he would have eaten more if there had been any.

He then spent the remainder of the night paying homage to the porcelain gods while quietly cursing my name.
We both consumed the same meal but since mine didn't feel the need for an encore, Steele was positive I was bent on his demise.

In the words of Cleopatra:

"Fool! Don't you see now that I could have poisoned you a hundred times had I been able to live without you."


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