baaaaack. So, in a blog I read, a blogger had a cool idea. She took suggestions for pictures of things that people wanted to see – her rats, cats, purse (that was my suggestion!), that sort of thing, and then took pictures of the requested items and posted them. Since I’m nothing but a big ol’ copycat, I think I’ll do the same. Like her, I won’t take a picture of my boobs (oh, wait – I already posted one of those, didn’t I? Well, I won’t take another one, though you can knock yourself out asking) or any kind of nekkidness, but other than that (within reason), anything’s fair game. What would you like to see? Last night, for the 143rd time since I’ve been living in the south, I attempted to make red beans and rice for dinner. The difference was that I was trying to make 2 batches of it, one for dinner and one to freeze to have dinner at some other point in time, since two batches is as easy to make as one. Each batch was in it’s own pot boiling merrily away, and I went into the kitchen to fry up the turkey kielbasa, when I smelled it. Burned fucking beans. I swear to god, EVERY fucking time I make them, I burn the damn beans. EVERY time. Fred makes red beans, and do they burn? NO. Bastard. From here on out, he’s making them, because I give up. I know what I’m doing wrong, but I’m powerless to stop my dumbass self. I’m not keeping enough water in the pot, but cooking is just SO BORING that I wander off to check email or read, and before I know it, the water’s boiled away and the damn beans are burned to the pot. Grrr! I was making two batches of the stuff because – as I mentioned – cooking is SO BORING, and I planned to freeze the other batch, so that I could just take it out of the freezer one morning, let it thaw, heat it, and serve it up like I’d been slaving over the stove all day. My plan was to start making double batches of every possible entree from here on out, but after the bean disaster I may have to think twice about that.
I was stomping around the kitchen after I’d discovered the burning beans, and I growled "It’s such a waste!", whereupon Fred reminded me "It’s a waste of about 40 cents, Bessie!" Oh yeah. Thank god beans are cheap. Of the 82 (at this moment) people who took my straightening iron poll yesterday, almost half wanted me to come eat fried chicken in the dark with them. Just goes to show that given a goofy choice, 49% of Bitchypoo readers will choose it. That line ("Come eat fried chicken in the dark with me, beautiful") or something similar came from The Stand, by the way. Fred suggested it. —–
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