Queen Larbs of Strumpet Valley

Email thread between my sister, my mom and me. Initiated by my sister with subject: “cooking question asap.” This comes from a girl who’s texted me at 4am before saying “911 emergency call me ASAP” to ask me to express mail her Zataran’s jambalaya mix (to London) so she can go to a Mardi Gras party.

Cristina: “i am making a baked potato. HOW? please answer ASAP as I have just put a potato in the oven.”

me: “Why are you making a baked potato? Potato famine diet? Or are you into fully loaded baked potatoes now? Are you gonna pick up some beef stroganoff at Boston Market to go with it? Or maybe a rotisserie chicken at Old Country Buffet?”

Cristina: “HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH am laughing so hard i am crying. my thoughts exactly!!!!!! now answer the friggin question before i gotta chop my chives.”

My mom (being constructive): “Heat the oven to about 400 – if you have aluminum foil, poke a couple of holes in the potato, wrap it in foil and bake. I usually cut off a small part of each end.  Bake for one hour.”

Cristina: “ONE HOUR?? jesus, who has that kind of time? i could bake a lamb in an hour.”

My mom (still being constructive): “Well sorry – why don’t you just boil it and mash it up?  You have to cut in up in cubes, peel it too, but that only takes about 10 minutes and if  you add salt, pepper, butter and milk, you’ll have some nice mashed spuds.”

Me (rarely/never being constructive): “ONE HOUR?! For a fully loaded baked potato? Here’s a solution. Take it out of the oven, cut it and fry it. That’ll take ten minutes. Then add a dollop, yeah I said it, of sour cream, bacon bits, chives, cheddar and whatever other nasty baked potato bullshit you want to pile on there. Maybe you can even microwave a hot dog, dice the hot dog, and sprinkle that on top too. Is this for Bugsy?”

My mom (having had enough): “This just exhausts me.”

The last word from Cristina: “i cannot believe the shit i am getting for my baked potato. soz, next time i will ask you to boil kale so that i can really nail the dirt flavour. meanwhile, my next project will be a bloomin onion.”

I’ll fill you in on Brazil soon. Summary: it was amazing. Back to the point at hand. Do you ever just sit around and randomly remember the most bizarre shit that at one point was your life? I just did.

I was searching through You Tube for a video of the movie line scene from “Dirty Work” AKA my favorite movie ever. (You are now one step closer to hacking into my internet life – I hope you enjoy those ten dollars and DO NOT spend them in one place.) I did not find this scene however I did find a bunch of hilarious scenes from Dirty Work and spent a couple of minutes reminiscing about how frequently I used to watch it. At least once a week and usually more. And anytime someone said “let’s watch a movie,” which is very frequently when you’re 15 and live in the burbs, I would say “yes, let’s watch Dirty Work.”

The weirdest time I watched Dirty Work was in the back of someone’s van in the high school parking lot. I was dating some water polo player who everyone thought was really hot but I just thought why is this character driving a rapist van with a tv and VCR in the back (especially a step down because I had previously dappled in dating some baller in an Escalade who bumped Jay-Z while chrome was spinnin, etc) but I shrugged and watched it anyway.

And that was my life at some point circa 15 years of age. I thought it was okay to watch a movie in my school parking lot in the back of some sketch bag’s rapist van. Anyway, I have to go drink beers now, it’s Friday afternoon. That is all.

I don’t know if there’s an emoticon that sticks its tongue out and also barfs. That would be more appropriate. All these people from my high school still hang out with each other, and are engaged to one another and have babies and live in the suburbs and take vodka shots at TGIFriday’s together. And wear Hawaiian shirts and skirts with tennis shoes and go on cruises and think humankind’s best achievement is the blooming onion. This is why I hate Facebook.

The best way to stretch 10 dollars is buying a gallon of milk and a box of cereal. You will eat for days. Fact.

That being said, I’m eating Cheerios right now. Anytime I eat Cheerios it reminds me of sitting in my grandmother’s Tacoma house at 4am and munching on cereal. My mother, sister and I would always have jetlagged, middle-of-the-night rendezvous in grandma’s kitchen after flying in to visit from Greece.

Cheerios = nostalgia. Same goes for Kraft Mac n’ Cheese and orange Squeeze-Its. That is all.