As you stand there wondering why she can’t just swear that she didn’t sleep with your boyfriend—how hard is that question?—slice cheese (much like you would like to slice her throat). Saying she didn’t and acting all indignant is not the same as swearing on her mother’s life. And she’s such a bitch for refusing to swear on her mother’s life and for acting like you did something wrong by asking her to do it.
In a skillet, melt enough butter to coat pan. Place one slice of bread in skillet and top with cheese, bacon, more cheese, and bread. Push down on sandwich with spatula as you play the conversation out for the fiftieth time:You: So why is everyone saying that you slept with my boyfriend?
Former BFF: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
You: Are you kidding me?
Former BFF: No.
You: Like, everybody’s been saying that you totally hooked up with him.
Former BFF: Ew. No. I would never. In the first place, I wouldn’t do that to you, and, in the second place, he is so not hot.
You: Why are you such a bitch?
Former BFF: Oh am I? I’m a bitch because your boyfriend is a dog and cheats on you?
You: Why can’t you just swear on it?
Former BFF: Don’t insult me.
You: Just swear. Swear on the life of your mother.
Former BFF: Whatever!
Flip sandwich, adding more butter to the pan. Press down to crisp up bottom. Think for a moment that perhaps she didn’t sleep with him. Decide that is impossible—the bitch is a total slut, and she’s always been jealous of you. When cheese is melted and both sides browned, turn onto a plate and enjoy. Call boyfriend to see if he wants to hang out later.
THE WHOLE OFFICE READ YOUR JOURNAL YUMMY OATMEAL MUFFINS
You will need:
1 egg
1 cup buttermilk
½ cup brown sugar
½ cup oil
1 cup quick-cooking oats
1 cup flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. salt
½ tsp. baking soda
A person with the same
name as you
Another boring day at the office. Oh! Here comes Laurie from accounting. She’s smiling—she must have a good joke. What’s this? She hands you a familiar-looking book. “This was in with the fact sheets in the copy room,” she says with a grin. You smile back but can hardly conceal your sense of dread. She leaves, and eventually you dare to look at the book in your hands. It is, indeed, the journal you lost over a year ago.
If you can’t fake a dentist appointment, put aside all thoughts of your innermost confessions having become fodder for the office gossip mill until the end of the workday.
Once safely home, preheat oven to 400°F. Place muffin cups into a muffin pan. Open journal to see exactly what everyone knows about you. Read:Dear Diary,
The new boss arrived today. His name is Steven, and he is super sexy. He has really wavy dark hair and strong shoulders. I just know he’s going to totally turn the department around. Maybe he’ll give me a special project to work on! That would show Laurie from accounting. She always treats me like a complete idiot. She’s such a bitch.
In a medium-size bowl, beat egg and stir in milk, sugar, and oil. Beat again to combine. Read: Dear Diary,
I had such horrible diarrhea all day long and had to keep running to the toilet. I’m not really sure how it happened, but I got some poop on the floor of the bathroom—I think because I literally had to run in there ’cause I was about to explode, and when I whipped down my pants, I think I was already going. I thought I made it in time, but I guess some leaked onto the floor. Anyway, when I stood up, sure enough, I slipped and landed on my rear, in the poo, on the floor, like a fish outta water. It got all over my pants. I tried to scrub it out and ended up sopping wet, with a huge stain. I had to quickly run out of the office to get something else to wear. Thank God there is Gap across the street. And thank God they had a bathroom.
Stir in remaining ingredients until moist. Keep reading:Dear Diary,
Today I think I made progress with Steven! I have been sort of hanging around his office as much as I can. I can’t help it, really. He’s all I think about. At night, when I’m home, I look at his photo on the company Web site. Sometimes I set up my computer across from me as I eat my Lean Cuisine dinner and pretend we’re dining together in a fancy restaurant. We have the greatest talks this way. Anyway, I practiced telling him something funny. It was something my mom had told me, a joke about a woman who is too busy to remember she has kids. And I went into his office and said, really casual, “Oh, hey there, Steven. Did you hear the one about the woman who was so busy she didn’t remember she had kids?” He gave me THE MOST GENUINE smile. I don’t care if everyone says he is gay.
As you picture your coworkers and Steven (oh God, Steven!) huddled together in the copy room, laughing their heads off, pour batter into the muffin cups till they are aboutfull. Bake for 20 minutes or until brown. Try to locate someone who shares your name, so you can claim the diary is not yours. Of course, this person must also work in your office. Eat while warm, perhaps with butter. Feel your heart crumble to dust and disappear.
WORST DATE EVER NUTTY CHEESE BALL
You will need:
28 oz. packages cream cheese
16 ½ oz. can crushed pineapple,
drained
1½ cups walnuts
¼ cup finely chopped green
pepper
1 Tbs. chopped celery
You should have known that it wasn’t going to go well when he arrived to pick you up for dinner on his Segway. As if it wasn’t awkward enough having to walk briskly along beside him, craning your neck to make eye contact as he rolled down the sidewalk, there was the added talking point of his jaunty little straw boater. What was he thinking? What were you?
Now you are starving because he took you to a raw food restaurant and then announced that everything was, “Real expensive, so don’t go crazy.” You were totally not prepared for him to whip out the calculator to determine, to the penny, what you ate. Once safely back in your own apartment—alone!—make yourself a nutty cheese ball because that’s exactly what that clown was. Mix together cream cheese and pineapple.
Take a quick peek out the window to make sure he’s gone. What? Is that him, lurking beneath the lamppost? Oh great, not only was he a lousy date, but now he wants to stalk you? Why is it always the losers that you can’t get rid of? Wonder, “Why can’t the really good-looking and successful guys be the stalkers?” as you put walnuts in a ziplock bag and crush them with a hammer, pounding on them like he kept pounding his fist on the table as he ranted endlessly about how nobody listens to him at work.
Add diced green pepper and celery to the cheese. Roll cheese mixture into a ball. Try not to think about how he kept adjusting his balls during dinner, saying, “Damn, boys, sit still!” And especially don’t think about the several times he actually reached down inside his pants and then with the same hand reached over to your plate to fish a piece of zucchini out of your raw lasagna.
Roll cheese ball in walnuts and vow not to ever, ever again go out with a man you met at the ninety-nine-cent store.
YOUR BROTHER REALLY WAS MOM’S FAVORITE PEACH PIE
You will need:
⅔ cup packed golden brown sugar
¼ cup flour
1 tsp. fresh lemon juice
½ tsp. ground cinnamon
¼ tsp. ground ginger
3 lb. peaches, nectarines, or a
combination of both
2 frozen piecrusts, defrosted
Preheat oven to 375°F. Call your mom to get recipe for peach pie. When she dismisses you, as usual, saying that she’s “really busy right now,” call brother. Hang up when he says, “I’m talking to Mom. What do you want?” Go to cupboard for great-grandmother’s Wedgwood pie dish that has been handed down through the family. Remember at last minute that brother has it. Poke holes in one piecrust, lin
e with aluminum foil, fill with beans or pie weights, and prebake piecrust in oven until barely golden brown.
Realize pie recipe uses metric system, which utterly confounds you. Maybe it wouldn’t if you’d been sent to a fancy private school or an elite college like your brother. Unfortunately, your mother spent your college fund on your brother’s graduation present, a round-the-world trip for the two of them.
Peal peaches and cut into eighths. Toss in a bowl with remaining ingredients and let stand for 30 minutes to 1 hour, or just long enough to dig out that old manuscript your mom wrote about the mother with two children who are kidnapped. In the story, the mother finds the older brother, who in turn helps bust the kidnapper, but when she locates the younger daughter, living with a new family in Arizona, she realizes that kid is better off where she is and leaves her there. Weep great, heaving sobs, being mindful not to forget about peaches.
Spoon filling into prebaked crust. Lay second crust on top and seal edge in a decorative fashion, making several slits in dough to vent. Bake until golden and bubbling, about 1 hour and 20 minutes. Enjoy à la mode or with dollop of resentment.
FAILED THE GED CREAMED SPINACH FOR IDIOTS
You will need:
Adult supervision
1 Tbs. olive oil (liquid, not cartoon
character)
1 bunch spinach (a vegetable)
1 clove garlic, minced (minced
means “chopped into teeny
weeny pieces”)
2 Tbs. butter
1 Tbs. flour
½ cup cream
¼ cup bread crumbs
2 Tbs. Parmesan cheese
(this is the kind of cheese you
put on spaghetti)
Salt and pepper
Preheat oven to 325°F. In other words, turn the oven to “Bake,” set the temperature knob (the one with the numbers) to 325, and wait until it either beeps or a light goes on or off, depending on the oven’s age and model.
In a large saucepan, heat olive oil over medium-high heat. Add spinach and garlic; sauté until wilted (sauté means “to stir is around until it’s all cooked”). Drain spinach in a colander (one of those bowls with all the holes in the bottom). In the same pan, heat butter over medium heat and when melted add flour, stirring nonstop for 2 minutes. Add cream and continue stirring. Put spinach back into pan and swoosh around until coated with cream.
In a bowl, mix cheese and bread crumbs together. It is better to do this with a spoon than with your fingers.
Get a baking dish and smear the inside with butter. Pour spinach in bowl and cover with cheese and bread crumbs. Bake in oven for 10 minutes or until top is golden brown. Turn oven off so as not to burn down house.
Consider a career in one of the following: professional athletics, motion pictures, politics, or lawn care.
YOU WALKED ALL THE WAY TO YOUR OFFICE WITHOUT REALIZING YOUR SKIRT WAS TUCKED INTO YOUR UNDERPANTS SESAME CHICKEN
You will need:
Pants
It is a glorious morning! The sun is shining, there isn’t a cloud in the sky, and you are feeling great in your flirty new skirt as you saunter down the sidewalk to the train. Hel-lo! Who is that cutie giving you the eye? You look back, and he’s still checking you out. A third look confirms that he’s following you. He’s far too cute to be a weirdo; it must be your lucky day! You begin to notice that every Tom, Dick, and Harry you come across seems to be checking you out. Must have been something in your oatmeal!
You hop on the train, smiling coyly to yourself and to the gorgeous men who are totally distracted and disarmed by you. At your stop, you prance out the door and up the stairs, fully aware that you have suddenly become the pied piper of men of all kinds. There’s the hottie from before, as well as a few notties and a slew of other fine fellows following you up the stairs.
Wait, why is this little old lady grabbing you? What could she possibly want? “Wha . . . ? My skirt is . . . what? Oh . . . Thanks . . .”
Jump into a taxi and head home. Once there, lock the door, shut all the blinds, pick up the phone, and order an extra-large sesame chicken from the closest Chinese restaurant.
For the next few days, check YouTube to be sure your indecent exposure wasn’t captured on film. Phew. Then check XTube . . . Damn.
Wear pants.
YOUR DECOR HASN’T CHANGED SINCE COLLEGE PIZZA LOAF
You will need:
2 lb. ground beef
½ lb. sweet Italian sausage
1 cup saltines
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 onion, chopped
1 egg
1 15 oz. can tomato sauce
2 tsp. salt
¾ tsp. oregano
½ tsp. pepper
3 oz. grated mozzarella cheese
5 green olives, sliced
In milk crate next to futon, find box of saltines and crush crackers until you have 1 cup or enough to fill the bottom chamber of your skeleton bong. In a hot pot, mix spices with tomato sauce, reserving ½ tsp. oregano. Take sausage out of casing and crumble. If the sausage seems to be moving, don’t worry: it’s just the glow from the lava lamp. Mix sausage with beef, cracker crumbs, garlic, onion, and egg.
Preheat toaster oven to 350°F. It may be necessary to unplug Christmas lights lining ceiling to do so. Add 10 oz. tomato sauce to meat, mixing well and place in a 9 × 5 loaf pan. If you do not have a loaf pan, do not substitute the shoe box where you keep your mix tapes. Instead just form into a loaflike shape in whatever pan you have available. Spread remaining tomato sauce on top of loaf and bake for 1 hour and 30 minutes. During this time you may stare at your 3-D unicorn art, relax in your butterfly chair listening to Pink Floyd, practice your Hacky Sack skills, rearrange posters, or think about growing up a little.
Sprinkle top of loaf with grated cheese and oregano, and top with olive slices. Bake for 5-10 minutes or until cheese is melted. Let stand for 10 minutes and then serve. If no plates are available, use spare Frisbees.
SKY-HIGH BANANA CREAM PIE BECAUSE YOU ARE DATING A MARRIED GUY
You will need:
1 frozen piecrust
4 bananas
2 boxes vanilla pudding
4 cups milk
4 cups cream
½ cup sugar
Preheat oven to 350°F. Poke holes in piecrust and bake for 10 minutes or until golden brown. Slice bananas. Check voice mail to see if he’s called you. He hasn’t. Prepare pudding according to package directions. Check voice mail again.
Place bananas in crust and cover with pudding. Pick up telephone to make sure the line isn’t dead. It isn’t.
In a large bowl, mix the cream and sugar. Whip with an electric mixer until thick and whippy. Call his house. When the wife answers, hang up quickly! Do not succumb to urge to tell her about the torrid but empty affair you are having with her husband. As tempting as it is, think of what it would do to the children. Top pie with whipped cream.
Go into bathroom, or to nearest mirror, and stare at your wretched self while repeating, “Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.” Bring pie into bathroom and eat while staring at yourself in the mirror, so you can see just how disgusting you truly are.
JALAPEÑO POPPERS FOR WHEN YOUR ONLY FRIENDS ARE PEOPLE YOU MET IN A CHAT ROOM
You will need:
12 oz. cream cheese, softened
1 8 oz. pack shredded
Mexican-blend cheeses
1 Tbs. crumbled bacon
Sunlight and fresh air
12 oz. can jalapeños, drained
and cut in half
1 cup milk
1 cup flour
1 cup bread crumbs
Oil for frying
Mix together cheeses and bacon and stuff into jalapeños. Resist urge to check Facebook to see if anyone has poked you in last 10 minutes. They haven’t, as they have real friends. Look out the window. See those people? They are real, not avatars. Wonder what their avatars look like.
Place milk into one bowl, flour i
n another, and play your move on Lexu lous. Laugh at Jen4Evah’s playing of the word “boobies.” Jen4Evah is awesome. Dunk peppers first into milk, then into flour. Place bread crumbs in a third bowl. Dunk peppers again in milk and then in bread crumbs. Repeat to make peppers extra crispy.
Film quick video protesting Twitter’s new disclosure policy, being sure to talk in superlatives and a crazy-sounding accent to ensure maximum hits when you upload it to iReport. Fry peppers in oil until golden brown, about 3 minutes each. Enjoy with your favorite beverage, taking care not to drip cheese onto keyboard as drips and spills are not covered by AppleCare.
Eat Your Feelings_Recipes for Self-Loathing Page 2