Cooking

As has been exhaustively documented in this blog, we've been dealing with a bit of roach problem, which has caused a disruption in our usual evening meals. The two of us now squatting against the couch and staring at our blank television and wondering what happened to our lives. One of the interesting side effects has been that I've taken up cooking this week. Apparently they provide these things called "recipes" which if you just follow these "recipes" closely the end product is usually pretty good. For years my kitchen demeanor has been to pull from the counter and spice racks and throw in ad-hoc whatever appealed to me. Scene: Huh, I like garlic and chocolate chips. Why hasn't anyone ever thought of putting them together? Queue to actual scene of me mistakenly frying up a cucumber thinking that it was zucchini then eating it noisily proclaiming its relative tenderness to S who would not even partake of the cucumbers, which in her defense had also been rolled in brown sugar.
Anyhow, if you just google something like "roasted potatoes," it turns out that you can find a "recipe" for roasted potatoes. This is pretty much ground-breaking stuff for me and I hope for the casual reader as well.

Job Front:
I'm being considered for another couple of jobs at the library where I've been toiling away for student wages over the past few months. I'm fairly certain that if I get turned down for these two jobs that my rejection count from this one job will have far exceeded any rejections I got while asking the fairer sex out. (Note: I think I may have asked out two girls in my life. I went 1 for 2, which is like batting 500 is we're playing baseball, and would be an all-time mark. However, if we're playing basketball and I'm at the foul line, I'm shooting like 50 percent, which makes me like Shaq. Like in my early twenties you'd be fouling me (providing copious drinks) just to see me try and casually strike up a conversation with a disinterested girl, who is typically looking around the bar to see where she has A) left her purse B) Left her Friend C) Left that handsome guy that she had been talking to earlier. The exciting part of this story was seeing the female in question a few months after her gentle dismissal in a local bar and pointing her out to one of my friends who said, "What were you thinking? She's way out of your league." Which, hey, at least it didn't stick with me and scar me these eight long years. Thanks Brian. You bastard.

Plural vs. Possessive
I've apparently made a routine habit of using these incorrectly in this blog.
S: You should proofread your blogs
M: Did you think it was funny? Note: add child-like need for validation somewhere in a portion of my irises.
S: "I mean, you just have quotation marks at the start of a sentence and then you leave them off completely at the end.
M: (Ashamed).

New Computers:
The most fun thing about buying the new computer was briefly pretending to know what things like gigaherz and RAM and dual core meant and shaking my head as the attendant rattled these things off in Best Buy. Tapping the computer meaningfully and saying that I just wasn't sure if 250 was going to do it for me.
Attendant: Are you going to be storing thousands of pictures and music and movies on there?
M: Possibly. I was thinking of running a small movie company solely based on my computer's graphics. Sort of like a Pixar thing. I've got this idea for an ornery hedgehog who travels around in a land of giants, and while he has this sort of complex relationship with his parents, who are aging, deep down he has like a heart of gold.
Attendant: Then this is the computer for you.
M: I think I need to work with someone else. Someone a bit more creative. I just told you the hedgehog's got a heart of f-ing gold. Do you think kids are going to want to watch a movie in which all the other predators are trying to rip out his heart of gold and sell it on the black market for cocaine? Is that the sort of movie you want your kids watching? Do you even have kids?
Note: The above interaction is a dramatization of a fairly simple conversation about computers. Plural.