Recipe For Disaster

Let me just put it out there on the kitchen counter for everyone to know — I’m a terrible cook.

Now you may be wondering, how bad could bad be? It’s all just science at the end eh?

HELL NO. When I say I suck ass, I mean I suck ass at cooking. My culinary skills are lower than the titanic rusting away at the bottom of the Atlantic.

When my food burns, it doesn’t just go up in smoke — it goes up like a god damn mushroom cloud. Now, I’m not saying I’m proud of this or that I’ve given up. I am quite ashamed of the fact that one of the most important life skills in the world refuses to impart itself on to me.

One of the humblest recipes that has passed on for generations because of its simplicity is a classic boiled egg. Have I attempted this? Yes. Have I failed? Hell yes.

My boiled eggs become jet packs that rocket around in a pot of water with little baby middle fingers pointing at me.

Mashed potatoes? They do that to themselves, no impetus from me whatsoever — don’t ask me how. IMO, vegetables have become sentient — just to mess with my existence.

Toast? One charred piece of coal coming right up sir. Would you like some juice with that? That fresh orange squeeze just chose to drip down sour, quite casually.

I have the constant need for double checking a recipe book before I fry a batch of bacon — yeah, can’t be too sure right? Some people are just meant to take a back seat and wait for that food delivery dude to show up like an orphaned puppy that just got abandoned forever in the desert. Too dark? Yeah that’s how my toast looks too.

Some day, maybe some day, I won’t have to pull out the fire extinguisher before slapping on some refridgerated coleslaw on a slice of bread.