scones, baby.

I'm preparing for an upcoming birthday party by attempting to make all the food myself. This after having to storm off to the bedroom last night when I couldn't get a chicken stir fry to work out the way I wanted. I actually managed to ruin both the stirfry itself and the rice to go with it. Which wouldn't be so bad, except that everything I did wrong was something I would've lectured someone else about had I observed them making the exact same mistakes. I crowded the pan, primarily. Not once, but 3 times. This turned my stir fry into a stir boil. You know, Leah ate it, so did Max, and they attested that it tasted fine. And I'm sure it did. Still didn't make up for the fact that I kacked it royal. I didn't eat dinner last night, mostly to help reinforce my self-disgust at failing to prepare something made routinely in bachelor apartments by people who find kraft dinner a challenge.

No matter how much I cook I'll never have any confidence because of incidents like this one. This sucks, mostly because I love to eat. Worse yet, on occasion I am able to get a few nice dishes together, often for company. Like at this party coming up, I'm sure I'll do a reasonably good job with scones, tea and little sandwiches. And invariably someone, by way of paying me a compliment, will proffer "This is really good. You should open a restaurant." Um... not to sound ungrateful, but fuck off in advance. Being able to feed 40 people a snack with about 10 hours to prepare does not make me ready to open a restaurant. It barely qualifies me to eat in one. Blowing your comment out of all proportion ain't praise, it's an annoyance.

Wow. Bilious.