February 1st, 2009

fist to face

The Spaghetti Fiasco

Today, I decided to make spaghetti.

Now, I have not, in fact, made spaghetti before, and I did not have a recipe at hand. This has never stopped me before; for you see, I am a Kitchen Adventurer. I create Great Works of Deliciousness by tossing whatever I have in my fridge and cabinets into a bowl and seasoning it with garlic and paprika. Thus far in life - or, rather, this year - this has not failed me. This is how I created my Hot 'n Spicy Mac & Cheese (containing vegetables and ridiculously hot salsa), my Big Chicken Dinner (which is exactly how it sounds), and various other meals of Complete and Utter Genius.

While I didn't know what I was doing, I had all of the necessary supplies: noodles, tomato sauce, diced tomatoes, salsa, meatballs, various cooking utensils. Prepared - or as prepared as I ever am - I started cooking. I started by defrosting the meatballs and dumping the noodles into a pot of boiling water. This was simple enough. I even managed not to spill noodles all over the kitchen (which has happened before, to much sadness and suicidal thoughts).

This was the last time something went right with the meal.

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A few hours after this event, I called up my mother and told her what happened. Somewhere in there she began to laugh. A lot. My response: "You're LAUGHING at my PAIN." She kept on laughing, so I huffed and puffed and hung up the phone. That's what you get when you sass me. Yo.
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