I don’t cook very often because if something can go wrong, it will. Like if I made popcorn stuffing, it would be sure to blow the oven door off the stove. When we get together for a big dinner, everyone is wary…you’d think they were going to die of ptomaine. I don’t like having that kind of reputation, so I don’t usually cook for anybody, not even myself.
Here are some of the things I have heard people say about my cooking:
– Oh no! not again!
– Is this roadkill?
– Postprandial prayer: Let us pray!
– No seconds…and I mean it!
– When did you make this? Last month?
– Diarrhea! Oh my god…out of my way!
– Are you sure this is cooked enough? It keeps trying to crawl off my plate!
– I swear I heard screaming when I cut into that turkey leg.
– The dog ate the leftovers and died?
– Where’s the pickaxe?
– Something in the gravy is waving at me!
– Don’t you come near me with that!
– Its behind is twitching!
– The turkey died of consumption.
I do bake a very good Jack Daniels Whiskey cake. No complaints about that!
