Culinary Douchebaggery

I really haven't done my fair share of grocery shopping (read:none at all) so no one but me is to blame for the following story.

When I came home from class today I was starving. Left-overs from last night? Nope. Milk? Eggs? Nada. Anything in the fridge worth eating? At all? Hell no!

Hummm. Hum. Hummmm. Laaaaaa. Laa. La... Nothing in the cabinets either. Damn! I peek around the kitchen door toward the pantry a mere eight feet away. There's a problem lying between me and the yummy yummy food inside that door. I smelled the poly when I got home but my fears were now confirmed as I hatefully stare at the blue painters tape marking exactly where I can and can't walk. Josh finished the new floors today. And guess where I can't walk!! Gahhh!

Fine. I return to the kitchen to rifle through the cabinets yet again. There really is quite a bit of food in there but most of it's in box form and requires milk to make plastic-tasting cheese. Well, what do we have here? Spam? Really? I double-check the expiration date because I definitely don't remember buying Spam. Seems safe enough.

I don't know how to cook Spam. I don't even remember ever eating Spam. So I sliced it up and fried it in a pan. EVOO, a little spice and some pepper-co-jack cheese. Toast the bread in another pan. Mayo on one slice, Sweet Baby Ray's on the other.. Ummmmm it was absolutely awful! Culinary fail number one for the day.

After I slept off my death sandwich I decided I really was going to eat something. An entire jar of pickles sounds good. I'll have that. Oh man, there weren't as many pickles as I thought. Better go get the other jar!

Dear god! I'm ill. I need food and I need it now. Popcorn! I'll have popcorn and go to bed. It's my favorite pre-snooze snack. Whenever I'm feeling sad Josh always offers to bring me a minibag to cheer me up. And this has been a sad day, indeed!

Yay! Popcorn! Something I actually want. Can I have two minutes on the clock please, Mr. Amana? I stick my head in our giant pots and pans cabinet to get my popcorn eating bowl just as I hear popping (not popping as in corn going "pop pop pop" but rather as in "I think the fucking microwave is on fucking fire" sort of "pop pop pop"). I bash my head on the counter on my way up from the pots and pans abyss. There are lights flashing in my eyes and in the still rumbling microwave.

I pull the plug out of the wall and punch Mr. Amana in the face. Well now what? I peek back around the corner at the pantry. It's almost as if I'm planning to sneak over there or something, like doing this might help in some way.

Lightbulb! I'll just wet down my feet a little and even if the floor is not all the way dry I can still get over there and grab some food. Ha! So smart! I run to bathroom on the other side of house as if I weren't just standing three feet from the kitchen sink when I had this revelation. Wet feet. Run (not sure why I'm running again, perhaps it ties in with the "sneaking up on the pantry" plan) through living room. Fall down. Get up. Check feet for wetness. Still wet. Ok.

I make it back to the dinning room, managing to not fall down and take that first tiny step across the blue tape. Hmmmm. Doesn't feel sticky. Good. Step, step, step, pantry. Whoo-hoo! I throw the door open and grab the first thing I see and run (sigh) the eight steps back to the kitchen and notice I've grabbed something that pretty much has to cook in the microwave. Fail number, I dunno six or something.

Back to pantry. Grab. Back to kitchen. This time I've managed score a can of Campbells Chunky Clam Chowder. Yummy! Can opener, lift drop squeeze.... No click/hiss sound. Try again, lift drop squeeze.... What the deuce? No click? No hiss? It's a ring-top can but without the ring. My husband must have broke the ring off then put the can back. Zomg! Clearance too huge for can opener. Jesus H. Macy, I'm doomed! Again. Fuck!

Nonono. I'm not about to give up on Chunky, no way. I even get a pot and turn on the stove to kinda wish myself luck. Grab hammer. Grab butcher knife. Several cuts and abrasions later soup is simmering. Yes! Stir stir taste. Hmmmm. Something is wrong and I wonder if perhaps I've permanently damaged my taste buds eating garbage. Try again. Stir stir taste. Shit. Retrieve can from trash. Double shit. The label says stuff like "Salt-free!!!!!111" and "heart healthy". Whaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!

Panic panic panic. So hungry! Ok. Add sour cream (after I pour the ucky water/oil mixture that always accumulates in the sour cream tub into the trash) salt, lots of salt, pepper, garlic and the last of my taco cheese. Still taste like paper mache. That's it. I'm going to Taco Bell like I should have six hours ago when this culinary debacle started even though I really should be going to the grocery store to get proper food.