I really have no real reason to be here, only feel like talking. And boyfriend is supposed to call when he wakes up, but there's no real telling when that'll ever happen.
I'm making fries as we speak.
Yeah. Like, potato fries.
That's the conversation I had with boyfriend last night/early-early this morning.
Me: I think I'll make fries tomorrow! er...later today....
(it was like, 2 in the morning, mkay? I never know how to refer to that)
Me: Um, yeah. Fries...?
BF: [more silence] Like, potato fries??
(at this point I don't understand why he's so confused. He made fun of me for not bringing a pizza cutter as that is apparently a bachelor pad "staple" so why in heaven's name would he not know about baking packaged fries??)
Me: Yes! Potato fries, silly! In a bag? Ya open it and put it in the oven and then NOMZ.
BF: In a bag?!?
To this moment I still have no idea if he was just messing around or not.
I tossed the crinkle cut fries in olive oil (just a teensy bit) and creole seasoning. We'll see how they turn out. Such is the life of all my cooking attempts.
"Hm. Let's try this!"
Maybe after 8 or so months of all this experimenting and utter failing I'll actually be able to feed another human (aka potential husband) (and then kids! oh boy...)
However, I must say, listening to the TRON soundtrack by Daft Punk whilst cooking makes the adventure that much more epic and daring. I feel really legit right now. Kinda. I mean, at the moment I'm just waiting for the oven to preheat which is like waiting for your decrepit, ancient grandmother to make her way down the stairs in her sleep. blah.
Can I just take a moment and talk about Hellfire? Before you judge me, please realize I'm talking about the song in Hunchback of Notre Dame. Not actual flames and minions and brimstone. No, the most genius song I believe Disney has ever come up with. Most genius, most creepy, most intense, MOST GENIUS.
I mean, A) it's not like any of us had one teeny inkling of how disgusting and creepy it was as a child. We just thought the evil, bad, ugly man was singing an evil, bad, ugly song at the fireplace--"Oh look! Esmerelda! I love her...."
Doesn't exactly cross your mind, "What's she doing in the fire? Why is he singing to it? What??"
B) It doesn't even sound like a typical Disney song! Just listen to it. It's legit, totally stand alone.
C) Monk chanting? That doesn't make you fall asleep? ETERNAL KUDOS TO YOU, Disney.
D) It just sounds really awesome in Russian.
toldja. (ps--I did try to embed it for y'all but I guess youtube and blogger are in the middle of hating each other and I'm not gonna deal with the immaturity of it all)
STIR DE FRIIIIIES
(speaking of hellfire...) It's so cold in our apartment, that blast of hot, hot air from the oven felt really good on my face and hands and arms and toes.....
Yes, I held my toes in front of/slightly inside the oven. Judge all you will. Why not change the thermostat? I would if there was one to be had. Along with selling our souls, we interns also sold our right to alter our living conditions. Disney says we is icicles.
I think I just messed up the fries....sprinkled on grated cheese probably just a bit too soon....
We shall see!
That right there is pretty much the actual Story of My Life. "We shall see". Who knows what's gonna happen tomorrow, next week, next year, I guess I'll just wait and find out! My mom likes to tell this story about me when I was little, how it would be rounding on christmastime and my parents would ask me, "So, Hope! What's Santa going to bring you for Christmas??" trying to get little pointers on what to buy at Walmart and Costco. But I would just sigh like little girls do, smile and reply, "I don't know! Guess I'll just hafta wait and see...."
Needless to say, parents were slightly frustrated. Bahaha. SUCKS TO BE YOU, MOM AND DAD.
Now that y'all know exceedingly too much about the boring drivel that is my everyday life and intimate details of my mellow childhood, I bid thee adieu.
Because I'm frying bacon and last time I ventured into that realm of cooking I filled the apartment with smoke. Let's not reciprocate, shall we?! Ok.