No man will ever want to marry me.
There are, perhaps, many reasons for this, but the most
important is my general ineptitude at all things house-keeping or craft
related.
Take for instance “The Curious Case of the Holes in All the
T-Shirts.” I have a plethora of cotton t-shirts. Nearly every one has a
mysterious hole in the same exact spot: lower, middle front.
They all look something like this:
What’s this about? How does it happen? Are my jeans
attacking my shirts? Is it my seatbelt? Do I have a sharp bellybutton? I don’t understand, but it’s been going
on for a good 4 years now, so I can’t blame it on any specific item of
clothing. I’m truly stumped. And I’m really fucking annoyed.
I was feeling crafty the other night and decided to re-hem
one of my favorite t-shirts in order to cover up the telltale holes on the
front. It’s a sweet t-shirt that my Aunt Kris brought back from Korea after she
and her family spent two years on the Army base in Seoul. It’s not exactly
replaceable, if you get my drift. And it’s super cool because it has dolphins
and Korean letters on it that probably spell out something really neat. (I
actually think it was a t-shirt from the school my cousins attended there and
it was supposed to be for Penelope, but I stole it before I moved to LA. Sorry,
P. But once you’ve seen how I “fixed” it, you won’t want it back.)
Here are a couple of photos of the finished product.
Good lord, it looks like the dolphins themselves hemmed this
shirt. And they were blind dolphins. On strong doses of PCP.
I have plans to get this problem resolved. This shirt is too
special to look this bad. But I’m ashamed. Ashamed that I mention sewing so much and act like I know how to do it. I don’t. And I should never be allowed
to touch a real garment again for the rest of my life. I’ll just keep trying out stitches on pieces of cardstock like I did before. Sigh out loud.
Segue to today when I attempted to make gluten-free peanut
butter cookies. The recipe is very simple: take some peanut butter and add
sugar, an egg, some vanilla and baking soda and bake it.
But I am much too clever to follow a recipe. I decided to
make mine with chocolate almond butter and since it was already really sweet, I
decided to leave out the sugar. Here is what I ended up with:
I thought it might be good anyway, once I let it cool. |
But here's what happened when I tried to cut it. Cookie scale soup, anyone? |
Never make up baking recipes as you go. Or “eyeball” your
measurements. Okay, maybe it’s fine if you’re good at culinary stuff and know
what you’re doing, but don’t start getting a big ego just because you once made
a yellow cake out of box. This doesn’t mean you’re a baker. It just means you
can read. I went back and did it right the second time and they turned out
pretty good. (I think. I mean they look
like cookies. And what's that famous saying, "Get it right the second time"?) Lesson learned. (Dang, I’m just learning lessons all over the
place this year!)
Totally passable. Fingers crossed. |
I am comforted by the fact that men still sometimes marry
women who can’t do anything useful in the home. Thank goodness it’s 2013 and
not 1953. But what can I possibly bring to the table besides my incredible
body and delightful personality? It seems unfair to enter into a marriage with only the abilities to sleep
for twelve hours at a time and recite lines from movies. On the other hand, no
one is actively trying to marry me right now, so I guess I shouldn’t worry
about it. And I suppose I can always keep hoping for a rich dude with lots of
servants that know how to cook and sew. And I’m not entirely sure I want to get
married anytime soon anyway, so I can probably relax about the whole thing. Phew. Yet another crisis diverted. Like my buddy Rebecca always says, "Life is a game of Whack-a-Mole." True, so true.
I will, however, say a few prayers for my friends. They’re
the ones that are going to have to try to eat these cookies tomorrow.
*A quote from W.C. Fields. I swear to god, I made those cookies sober. Maybe I shouldn't brag about it, though.
Identical outcome as the first time I tried to make cookies, we are soulmates. I love that dolphin shirt btw.
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