When I say my roommate can cook, what I actually mean is she LOVES to cook. She’s constantly making cookies, muffins, super complicated dinners, and what have you. I try to get in there and make my own crappy meal before she does, because hers is a whole production and she’ll be in there for hours. I cannot impress upon you the degree to which I can’t make food. I live off sandwiches and macaroni. I don’t even know how I’m alive.
She’s also extremely creative. Right now she’s making a grilled cheese with tomatoes using BAGELS because her bread expired today. To put this in perspective, MY bread expired four days ago and I’m going to keep making my basic turkey sandwiches until I see green mold. This should give you the idea that, in addition to having no creative aptitude for food, I also don’t have any sense of self-preservation.
The most creative thing I do is toast the bread before I stick it in my eight-dollar toaster from Sears and then throw on the ham and cheese, so I can trick myself into thinking it’s like a croque-monsieur. I’m livin’ large, people. (It’s not even remotely like a croque-monsieur.)
Right at this very second I’m eating a coconut banana muffin that she made. I hate both bananas and the flavor of coconut. But this is good. This is really good.
that ironic lady 