express lane torture

(please excuse the bad photoshop job. making this was therapy.)

what i have learned in the kitchen so far this week:

~rachael ray covertly calls grocery stores, keeps a database inventory of their stock, then creates as many meals as possible from everything else (preferably items with names that sound like frightening diseases such as "vermicelli").

~combining two perfectly good, separate meals (from entirely different continents) to create a 3rd meal with a name that is not even worthy of a wiggles song is apparently chic. (is this the same "chic" that deems bug-eye sunglasses ok for anyone of post-wiggles age?)

~the broiler is only a good substitute for a toaster if supervised closely. (putting on makeup in the bathroom with the door shut does not constitute proper broiler supervision.)

~an english-muffin-broiler fire can be extinguished with repeated blows from a wine-and-grape patterned potholder when baking soda is not readily accessible and your husband isn't answering his phone to tell you where the baking soda is because he's in the bathroom (of all the dumb reasons not to answer your phone when 6 inch flames are shooting out of your oven and your wife is panicking out of her mind and has no clue where the stupid baking soda is...).

~it was an ugly potholder anyway.

~rachael's idea of a joke is to hide her "fresh herb" requirements in an obscure part of the recipe, forcing the cook to venture into her spider infested herb garden after dark to retrieve about 20 liters of weeds for a "pizza-dilla". (where are the wiggles when i really need them?)

~my neighbor's idea of a joke is to rev his motercycle engine really, really loud right outside my herb forest, sending me toppling head first into the spider infested basil plant that rachael has demanded i collect exactly 367.82 individual leaves from to sacrifice as an offering to the spiteful kitchen deities.

~she didn't realize i already sacrificed my english muffin.