“I think that women just have a primeval instinct to make soup, which they will try to foist on anybody who looks like a likely candidate.” ~ Dylan Moran
I have become a prodigious cooker of onion soup this winter.
To be honest, it’s because I planned to make a pot for a dinner party once and ended up buying roughly a gazillion more onions that I needed. This is because I grocery shop like my mother: with plans to feed a small country instead of a few guests. It’s a bad habit, but luckily onions last forever and so I’ve been able to get quite a few batches out of that one mishandled shopping excursion.
I believe we can rate fails on the level of their failure. An example of a little fail is like when my car drove over a bump, the CD paused and my very loud, very out-of-tune and very, very embarrassing singing to Ke$ha’s ‘We R Who We R’ rang out.
This weekend proved conclusively that I wouldn’t make a good spy. It also reminded me not to drink cocktails on an empty stomach.
Let’s just say that my tact, subtlety and wit find me an atrocious companion when fishing maraschino cherries from my cocktail, and abandon me to my own, poor, devices while they find peace and quiet somewhere else. I also become marginally louder (don’t believe what people tell you) and start swearing like a sailor when I’ve had a drink.
Don’t be fooled by appearances.
These things are stronger than they look.
‘Big’ is a word you should use very cautiously when talking to women. It’s like waving a red flag at a bull, quite frankly. It could very easily turn a conversation into a landmine-ridden no-go zone that ends direly in explosions and yes, ultimately, death.
A colleague described my desk as a “theatre of cruelty” after my beautiful birthday lilies started to die of thirst – all the water in the vase evaporated over the weekend. I also killed a pot plant last week.
My computer has been making a dreadful whirrrrrrrrrrr ghrghghhgghghh whirrrrrrrrr noise for the past several weeks. I finally sent a vexed email to IT. IT guy came, looked at the computer for half a second and said, “It’s the fan.” Humiliation is mine.
I never stop doing dishes. NEVER.
I’m single. While most interpret that as a bad thing (hell, I do sometimes too) it actually means fun nights out with the girls… where we DRINK!
BONUS REASON TO DRINK: Toxic waste will kill you and NOT turn you into a super hero. I know, right! WTF!