Myth: Everyone on Planet Earth is out on the town having a fabulous time, meeting the love of their life, and looking gorgeous amongst hoards of gorgeous friends. You are the only human being not involved. This makes you supremely lame.
Told friends I'm a no go. Check. After massage, pick up quick dinner.
Why is this parking lot such madness? Isn't everyone supposed to be out on the town having a fabulous time, meeting the love of their life, and looking gorgeous amongst hoards of gorgeous friends? What's with the stampede at the market?
Pizza. Check. Oh, that's right, I need orange juice. Better get a cart.
And string cheese. Need milk, as pretty sure mine has curdled up a bit. You know what sounds good? Pasta.
Whole wheat or "enriched" noodles? Um. Um? Um! Both. Two of each.
Need cute containers to hold pasta on countertop. Too pretty and imported and colorful to be stored in cupboard. Yes, good idea. Cute containers.
"Excuse me, where's the mayo or Miracle Whip or something like that?" I'll totally make that parmesan chicken thing I saw on the hulu commercial. I bet the recipe is even on the Hellman's label. Or Google will know. 2012 is my year for cookin' at home. I'll totally nail it. Perfect Soccer Mom did it in like 15 seconds and it was golden loveliness. I got this.
Oh. Chicken. Right. Now, where would that be? "Excuse me..."
Pasta looks adorable on countertop. Goes well with vintage milk bottle vignette and nested jewel-toned mixing bowls. Will impress friends by perceived ability to cook stuff. And mad staging skills. Suck it, Pottery Barn.
Countertop not sparkling though. Clorox wipe will quickly take care of...
Text from Portland friend (actually, instant message within the Words With Friends app, which is actually a critical distinction in our case): "What are you doing tonight? I'm toying with staying in." Validation.
How old is that stuff in the cupboard, I wonder? Does Jello expire? "Use by 08/2008." Huh. Have I ever made Jello? Why is this here? Isn't it horse parts or something? Toss. Liberating.
I think that's correct. Google: "Do I need to refrigerate pasta sauce?" WikiAnswers will know. I got this. 2012 is my culinary cotillion. "...however, once opened..." Oh, okay.
Wait. Is that Ramen? A can of pineapple from...what year what year where is it? It's still okay. It's not even opened. Oh wait. It has my name written with Sharpie ink on the top. From when I had roommates sharing my cupboards. Seven years ago.
Text received: "I am relaxing/cleaning house. Have some halibut to cook. Wine. Movie at home with the furry kids." I told you, World. Fabulous people all over the map are sitting on their sofa right now. I told you.
OMG. Gross. Been seven years since I had either roommates or any remote necessity to property tag my fruit cans. How many apartments and boxes and moving vans has this little fruit can seen? I should call the Smithsonian. Which one? American History? Could call Natural History. They're probably fossilized in there. I'm a long-time member. I bet I can get a curator on the phone. Why have I never consumed this pineapple? How hard would that have been? Why have I packed it around...oh, forget it. Toss.
In fact, while I'm in here...
I like that I've spent over an hour deep purging and organizing my cupboards, freezer, fridge, secret snackety snack sugar stash, et.al. New year, new kitchen, new me.
Bag of unopened pasta from 2009? It's good, remember, it's not even opened. That makes it okay. But, I have Pretty New 2012 Pasta in Cute Containers. This time around, my pasta cooking resolution will stick. For real. Not like the disastrous Pasta Cooking Resolution of 2009. Clearly not like that. Oh fine, toss.
I was raised by hippies, not Depression Era beet farmers. What's with the nonperishable food hoarding? OMG I've become the stuff of cable tv. Toss. Toss. Toss. Tosstosstoss.
Just go outside, you're not leaving this sitting in your entryway. Frozen stuff will melt, leak everywhere. Don't want to know what no-longer-frozen fish from 2010 smells like in your carpet. Just go.
It's freezing out here. My neighbors will be all, "Who's that mysterious girl taking out three overstuffed trash bags at 9:00pm on New Year's Eve? She must be having an awesome party to generate that much waste. We've barely filled one trash bag. We're lame. She can also throw a party that fierce with no makeup in yoga pants and flip flops? She IS the fiercest. Or a lesbian. I kinda thought so."
Clankety clank clank go three Hefty bags full of evidence of Old Me Who Apparently Hoarded Food. Definitely sounded like wine bottles. Hope they heard that. People will think my party is fierce.
WOW...wow...wow...echo. My fridge is huge. And dirty.
So satisfying. I will wake up sans hangover, STD-free, with a refrigerator sparkling like...
What IS that? Ew. Bleach. Bleach. Fix it. Hurry.
Text received: "...listening to wait wait don't tell me on opb, with my christmas lights on, looking out the window. Cue sappy music. I'm sure I'll meet the love of my life from inside my house."
Requires myth-busting response typed one handed to avoid Palmolive soaked iPhone: "87% sure the men of our dreams are not at a bar tonight. Cruel irony is they're doing exactly what we are, just in their own homes." (If you would like to prove me right, and you're a tall singer/songwriter with a well-paid day job, hit up the comment section.)
That's a really strong smell. Bleach in the fridge. Was that a good idea? Google, help me. The food's fine, right? I have a box of baking powder in there somewhere. It smells like a YMCA locker room.
I never did make dinner.
Nope, not even DIY Boboli. That's frozen CPK, bitches. Deal with it.
Note to Self: Pasta tomorrow. Definitely make use of Pretty New 2012 Pasta in Cute Containers. Tomorrow.