fcuk me? No--fcuk you!
Hoorah for french connection! That about sums up my weekend. Had a good night on Friday. Gordon took great care to see that I got drunk and forgot all about my job situation. Had an early night (as is becoming more and more our usual) at the bar and a good time at home. We made out. I mean, “hey, we’re in junior high and my mom’s in the next room” made out. It was great. I forgot how fun it was to do that. As you get older, making out usually leads to other stuff. It was fun to just kiss. I love kissing. When I am alone or if Gordon is out of town, that is what I miss. You can always get yourself off, but you’d have a hard time smooching yourself.
So it turned out to be a great Friday night. Followed, of course by a fabulous fcuking day. Sarah and I went to the Galleria. This is a trip I try to only make once every few years. The parking lot is crowded (dangerous for others with road-ragers like me behind the wheel) and it’s hard to find anything because there is so much stuff to distract you. Like Sarah I spent loads of money. I got “houston’s first fcuk” for myself, along with “cheeky fcuk”. I took care of Best Friend’s Christmas present as well ("fcuk fashion"). I also bought a birthday present for my favorite Cranky Barman. All the bartenders at Local Pub give my boyfriend and his workmates a hard time about being sheep shaggers. Well, Cranky Barman is part Scottish, so I got him a “fcuk ewe” shirt with a sheep’s head on it. I giggle every time I think about it. We also got some freebies. I got a sample of men’s cologne for Gordon and a cool door hangy sign that says “fcuk in progress” on one side and “free to fcuk” on the other. My fave freebie is a perfume stick. It looks like a big glue stick and it’s got a little shimmer to it. I hate perfume--it never smells right on me--but this stuff smells awesome. If I hadn’t been in half a coma this morning, I would have even worn some to work. And that’s saying a lot, because I really don’t put too much effort into my work look.
In other news…
Saturday night I went to my very first hockey game. We lost in overtime, but it was fun. The only thing that sucked was that for the first 15 minutes we were there, I thought we were the white team, when really we were the blue team. Oh well. Gordon thought the same thing. Had the best french fries of my life at the game, as well. Garlic Parmesean french fries. ‘Nough said.
Sunday I...spent some more money. I bought a pair of really cool red and black stripe-y pants. Yay for stripe-y pants! I needed more work pants, and so I bought some. I tried them on for Gordon last night, and got the best response he’s ever given me on an article of clothing. Normally I get “yeah, those are okay”. Last night I got “Whoa! Those are niiiiiice.” So I decided to rip the tags off before I could think any more about it.
Had my first major kitchen fiasco last night. I don’t cook. Please do not confuse this with “I can’t cook”. I don’t believe in that. Anyone that can read can cook. Maybe they can’t cook well, but everyone can cook something. But I don’t cook. I don’t like to do it. I don’t like to buy 6 pounds of some obscure seasoning so I can use .001 teaspoons of it. It takes time, effort, and clean up, so I hate it. However, on those rare occassions when I do cook, I usually whip up some damn tasty food. Last night was not one of those times.
Last night I made spinach stuffed manicotti. I’m not sure how I messed this up. I like everything in it. Spinach? Check. Manicotti? Check. Garlic, tomatoes, and ricotta? Check, check and check. So where did it go wrong? How is it that somewhere between cooking the noodles and taking the finished dish out of the oven everything decided to taste like crap? I’m not sure. Maybe it was an evil plot against me. Maybe my oven hates me because I haven’t cleaned her in months. Maybe the dish rebeled against me because I used low-fat ricotta instead of the whole milk kind. I don’t know. But it was gross. I felt like Bridget Jones. After 90 minutes in the kitchen, I had a tasty dinner of: a hot pocket. Luckily, it didn’t all go to waste. For some reason, Gordon thought it was delicious. There are not many foods we do not agree on, but for some reason… After the first bite, it took every ounce of my will power to say “Don’t eat that” without spitting the filth back onto my plate. Gordon however, ate most of the manicotti. He had like 6 stuffed shells. Yuck. Oh well, I guess I can un-dog-ear that page in my cook book.
Posted by amy t.
Comments...
What hockey game did you go to on Saturday??
Posted by Mel on 11/17 at 03:32 PM
Well that sucks. The dish sounds delicious though (reminding me I haven’t made anything similar in a while and am craving italian).
The pants sound snazzy. Congrats on a fun weekend!
Posted by Em on 11/17 at 03:36 PM
Congrats on your first hockey game!