My wife left for a family trip about a week and a half ago. Since then, it’s been beer, cheeseburgers and NHL playoff hockey. I’ve roasted asparagus under the broiler as a side. That’s cooking, right? Whatever dude. Anyway. If I’m not eating frozen pre-packaged burgers (meat pucks), I’m tapping my freezer’s reserve of store bought pizzas, ignoring the homemade crusts Hanne left for me to eat (with instructions and suggestions for toppings).
Sure, it sounds and actually has been great, but I’m wearing down, my fast metabolism be damned. Also, I had big plans (which didn’t include trying to pass Zelda before the wife returns), cleaner arteries and an apartment that didn’t reek of meat before I was left to fend for myself. I was hoping to prove, by starting this food blog, that I could take care of myself. Turns out I can feed myself, but taking care of myself has taken on a sinister tone.
So instead, here is my low point, complete with a wicked picture of
my someone else’s day-old meat-caked George Foreman Grill, snapped amateurishly with my camera phone stolen from this blog because I can’t find my usb cable. Hello world! Seriously, this food blog has nowhere to go but up!