I don't often cook things that take more than two steps to prepare.

Step One: Open Box

Step Two: Put in Microwave

So when I do decide to get all domestic, it's a joyful challenge.  I'm no Alton Brown (I wish I were though, that guy must be beating the chicks off with a giant breadstick) but I can hold my own with simple recipes. 

Lately, I've been having a craving for cheesecake.  But not just any cheesecake.  My Aunt Rachel's delicious secret-recipe (which I will be happy to divulge at the end of this beast) has been haunting me in my dreams.  So I called her a few days ago to get the specifics, and finally went to work making it this evening.  It was probably a bad idea to let Erin and her parents have a taste of the batter, because those guys...

They got into my cheesecake before it was done.  Argh! 

Erin is a sneaky son of a pig.

Katie Reed's Aunt's Terribly Bad For You CheeseCake

You need:

8 oz. Cream Cheese

1 Large Tub of Cool Whip

1 can of sweetened condensed milk

1/3 cup of lemon juice

1 nine inch graham cracker crust

Directions: Mix all the wet crap together until smooth.  Pour into the pie tin and cool in the 'fridge for THREE OR FOUR HOURS (Not two, Chisum family!) until completely firm.  Top with whatever you like and stuff your fat face.

When a normal girl is hit upon, she will typically giggle like a dimwit and reciprocate, hiss and throw drinks and/or claws in the fella's face, or try (unsuccessfully) to ignore what he said or did. 

I, unfortunately, am not normal.  When a guy comes onto me, I don't handle it well at all.  Well, not maturely anyway.  I sort of turn into an eleven year old boy, which is nonetheless effective in repelling attention. 

My best example of this to date happened today at work.  There is a young man who, at first glance, seems like a total queen.  No kidding.  He's a big, fat, loud-mouth who calls everyone "honey."   I thought he was gay until yesterday, when his girlfriend came in to drop something off.  Having a girlfriend, however, doesn't stop him from flirting with everything with a vagina that comes in.  So I guess that qualified me.

"Honey, I never noticed what beautiful eyes you have," he cooed at me a couple of hours before my shift was over.  I smiled at him, nervously, and before I even knew why I was saying it, out of my mouth came, "Yeah, and I bet you couldn't guess which one is made of glass!"

The only thing funnier to me is that he believed me!  "Oh, I think it's the right one.  It has more glare."

"Wow.  Most people aren't so discerning.  Good job."

A while later, while talking with coworkers near me, Mr. Man exclaimed, "Can you believe she has a glass eye?"

Everyone looked confused, so I winked at 'em with Glassy when his back was turned and said, "Yeah, the doctor did a good job at matching up the colors.  But you didn't need to announce my medical disabilities to the whole place, jerk!"  And with that, I hid my smirk and went back to my duties.

Right before my shift was over, Mr. Man placed a sympathetic hand upon mine shoulder and whispered, "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you."

With a deep, painful sigh, I glanced at him and murmered, "It's alright."

mood: confused

"How come everytime you come around,
My London, London bridge, wanna go down like,
London, London, London, wanna go down like,
London, London, London, we goin down like "

Can't you make up any euphemisms for female anatomy that aren't completely unattractive?  I'm not even entirely sure what you're talking about (perhaps someone who is more "with it" can assuage my confusion here) but I'm pretty sure it means your cootch.  Or panties.  Or something.  Agh, I don't know!  F'ing Fergie!

Edit:  Maybe it means she's had British dental work done! 

Hope you enjoy your doll, Suck-face.


...oh, and school too.  Whatever.