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Teh silly raises its ugly head
May. 25th, 2007 09:17 pmWe have half a pig and half a cow in our freezer.
Well, not literally, but very close to it. This is what happens when teh silly is allowed to take control.
See, we’re having friends round on the weekend (coven mates and others) and we have this vague ambition to barbeque. Not for any particular reason, mind you. Neither of us can cook using our extremely gadget stuffed kitchen (Rick is NOT a Gary Stu. It’s beloved who’s gadget obsessed not me. My blond, blue eyed, gadget obsessed computer geek beloved... ah hell, I got nothing) why do we think that either of us, confused and bemused by a 9 function microwave a 6 functioned oven, 2 hobs and a strange whirly thing that always draws blood will somehow manage to cook with a metal bottle of calagas over some fake charcoal I don’t know. Perhaps its a call all men feel - after years of healthy cooked food, elegantly prepared in sensible, hygienic surroundings, we all desperately crave charcoal smeared lumps of seared flesh. Maybe. But then one feels that that instinct should not demand that said seared flesh be served with a half-way decent béarnaise sauce. Kind of ruins the picture doesn’t it? One can hardly reject civilisation and the trappings of man and return to a primitive, almost bestial state when one craves elegant French sauces.
Anyway, back to teh silly - or continuing teh silly. See, I love my beef, he loves his pork. We both disdain the other’s choice. Now, rather than plan what lovely lumps of dead animals we were going to buy and how much we were going to need our adventure at the meat market turned into a strange game of chicken.
We both bought more of our preferred meat (not THAT meat thank you. Gutter people) than we needed and of course I didn’t say anything because I’m not lobbing any stones from the lawn of my glass house, thank you. Then one of us, I forget which (must have been him because I am SO much more reasonable, right?) saw something else and had to get it... which spurred the other to grab something and...
...well, you can see where this is going can’t you? And of course once you’ve let teh silly run away with you, you can’t stop without admitting to teh silly and you certainly can’t stop anyone else’s silly - because that just makes your own silly look worse. And everyone knows teh silly isn’t REALLY silly if you live in denial and pretend its right and reasonable. Right?
So now I have to find a way to convince Beloved that he has bought a silly amount of food and there is no need for us to try and cook it all this weekend. Because otherwise I’m going to have to back down which would be really unfair because it is clearly ALL HIS FAULT. Yes, yes it is.
And then there will be the challenge of ensuring various female relatives do not find out about teh silly as they already half believe that 2 men living together cannot possibly work (not that they disapprove of homosexuality or us - they just don’t think men can possibly survive without a woman’styrannical presence guidance).
Well, not literally, but very close to it. This is what happens when teh silly is allowed to take control.
See, we’re having friends round on the weekend (coven mates and others) and we have this vague ambition to barbeque. Not for any particular reason, mind you. Neither of us can cook using our extremely gadget stuffed kitchen (Rick is NOT a Gary Stu. It’s beloved who’s gadget obsessed not me. My blond, blue eyed, gadget obsessed computer geek beloved... ah hell, I got nothing) why do we think that either of us, confused and bemused by a 9 function microwave a 6 functioned oven, 2 hobs and a strange whirly thing that always draws blood will somehow manage to cook with a metal bottle of calagas over some fake charcoal I don’t know. Perhaps its a call all men feel - after years of healthy cooked food, elegantly prepared in sensible, hygienic surroundings, we all desperately crave charcoal smeared lumps of seared flesh. Maybe. But then one feels that that instinct should not demand that said seared flesh be served with a half-way decent béarnaise sauce. Kind of ruins the picture doesn’t it? One can hardly reject civilisation and the trappings of man and return to a primitive, almost bestial state when one craves elegant French sauces.
Anyway, back to teh silly - or continuing teh silly. See, I love my beef, he loves his pork. We both disdain the other’s choice. Now, rather than plan what lovely lumps of dead animals we were going to buy and how much we were going to need our adventure at the meat market turned into a strange game of chicken.
We both bought more of our preferred meat (not THAT meat thank you. Gutter people) than we needed and of course I didn’t say anything because I’m not lobbing any stones from the lawn of my glass house, thank you. Then one of us, I forget which (must have been him because I am SO much more reasonable, right?) saw something else and had to get it... which spurred the other to grab something and...
...well, you can see where this is going can’t you? And of course once you’ve let teh silly run away with you, you can’t stop without admitting to teh silly and you certainly can’t stop anyone else’s silly - because that just makes your own silly look worse. And everyone knows teh silly isn’t REALLY silly if you live in denial and pretend its right and reasonable. Right?
So now I have to find a way to convince Beloved that he has bought a silly amount of food and there is no need for us to try and cook it all this weekend. Because otherwise I’m going to have to back down which would be really unfair because it is clearly ALL HIS FAULT. Yes, yes it is.
And then there will be the challenge of ensuring various female relatives do not find out about teh silly as they already half believe that 2 men living together cannot possibly work (not that they disapprove of homosexuality or us - they just don’t think men can possibly survive without a woman’s