Burning Down the House
November 26th, 2006
Honestly, in retrospect, I’m pretty impressed that no one punched me at any point during Thanksgiving. If I could, I’d go back and smack myself right in the face and scream “Snap out of it!” like Loretta did to Johnny, because dude, it wasn’t worth the agony, and also, I was a bit…overly dramatic, and a slap might have been good for me.
Let me back up. For starters, I went to the grocery store on Thursday morning around 7:30 a.m., and honestly, it was shocking the number of people I saw tooling around the store buying all of their Thanksgiving fare – including frozen turkeys, stuffing and potatoes – that morning, as in, this was the first time they considered that maybe they should cook. Look, I am a lazy procrastinator when it comes to matters of the home, but even I couldn’t dillydally until that moment, and besides, weren’t those people just completely hosed? Doesn’t a turkey have to defrost for something like two whole months in the fridge before you can actually cook it or you will get salmonella and die a vomitous death that may or may not include cold sweats and devastating stomach cramps? Amateurs.
Anyway, I didn’t have that much to do before everyone arrived except for making a kugel, whipping together some lemon bars (Krusteaz to the rescue!) and throwing a couple of random frozen appetizers into the oven (Think cocktail weiners. Frozen latkes. We’re classy.) And of course, reheat the dinner I paid someone else to cook. Oh oh oh, and smearing shit on bread. My life was hard.
Seriously, I behaved as though I was preparing a 19-course feast for the original pilgrims who were going to be resurrected from the dead for one final Thanksgiving meal and it was all on my shoulders or they would burn in some sort of culinary hell. Because WOE WAS ME, it was so painfully challenging and NO ONE UNDERSTOOD what it was like, those ungrateful bastards. I even dressed the part, wearing an apron with a festive little harvest turkey on it, as if I was going to do anything that stood the remotest chance of sullying it, especially given that I was still wearing my pajamas. I’m cringing as I remember how I fluttered about the house with a self-important air while I shooed people – who came innocently looking for coffee – out of the kitchen with waving hands while I furrowed my little brow over the noodle pudding like it was the only noodle pudding that would ever be made ever so help us God, Amen. There may or may not have been some loud, heavy sighing involved like the weight of the civilized Thanksgivinged world rested on my sad little shoulders, because I was cooking noodles.
Don’t you want to pummel me with a thousand tiny fists? Go ahead. I deserve it. I mean, dude, I made a noodle pudding and reheated cocktail weiners in puff pastry and I acted like I had to run out and figure out a way to slaughter a wild turkey using nothing but a blunt spear followed by a solo feather-plucking session using my big toes. I was out of control.
What’s more pathetic is that I managed to completely screw it up by dropping the phone into the oven during the final moments of the kugel and lemon bars (I had to coordinate two items at once! Two items that had to cook at the exact same temperature, but STILL. There was TIME COORDINATION OH MY GOD.) I stood by, helpless, as I watched the phone melt into the oven element, the thick syrupy plastic dripping onto the bottom of the oven and (oh my God), the horrid reek of burnt plastic (which smells alarmingly like burning hair) spread through the house like an angry toxic cloud. And worse, I dropped the phone while I was screaming at Adam because he did not understand (DID NOT) how hard this was for me, because THANKSGIVING IS HARD, YOU JERK, and all he could hear was “SHIT OH MY GOD FUCK THE PHONE IS MELTING,” except he didn’t hear the words, just the screaming, and thought that I was being abducted and held hostage until I spilled my noodle pudding secrets.
When meanwhile, the poor guy was out picking up the turkey dinner for me because I was clearly incapable of driving or cooking, or even, I don’t know, breathing, without creating some sort of wild disaster. And if you’re keeping score, this brought my Thanksgiving duties to something like two things, both of which were completely expendable, but try telling that to a crazy girl weilding a turkey apron, JUST TRY.
Miraculously, everything turned out okay, if a bit…plasticky, you know. Except for the phone, which is completely ruined, which seems to upset Adam greatly, because apparently, that was his favorite phone (of course), even though we have something like 11 others. But phone woes aside, I am insanely happy that it’s over. I’m happy to lay around and watch movies, and I’m happy to go back to work without having to rush home to a frillion people.
And I’m never, ever actually cooking the entire Thanksgiving meal ever, because no one is really sure what would happen then. And also, I think it’s important to note that I find the crinoline at the top of Katie Holmes’ dress to be very upsetting.
*Talking Heads
Entry Filed under: Nuttin'
17 Comments Add your own
1. wordgirl | November 26th, 2006 at 9:40 pm
I’ve gotta take a closer look at the TomKat wedding pics before deciding about the crinoline. And the way you do Thanksgiving sounds just like me…except for the part about going to the store on Thursday. I try to avoid psychotic episodes of every kind when I can and I’m pretty sure doing any food shopping on the morning OF the big day would completely do me in,
2. Lawyerish | November 27th, 2006 at 6:02 am
Awesome. I am sure you were brilliant and composed; the madness was only in your head. Except for the phone, which….whoops! It was his favorite phone. Hee. How he torments you.
What IS that flourish of tulle about, anyway?
3. Christine | November 27th, 2006 at 6:27 am
I went to the store Tuesday night, at about 10:30pm and the supermarket was blessedly empty. PLUS they had defrosted turkeys already, bless their hearts.
Of course all this did not stop me from having a meltdown of my own, eventhough it was just me and the boy and the cat. But apparently the boy asking for chocolate milk while I try to coordinate sides and a bird that cooked in an abnormally short period of time was just TOO MUCH. Gah. Next year? Pizza all around.
4. Sadie | November 27th, 2006 at 7:00 am
You melted the PHONE?
5. Heather B. | November 27th, 2006 at 7:35 am
I find it more bothersome that she (Katie) and Tom looked like they were posing for their Senior Prom pictures.
I also find it important to point out that you’re the only person I know that could manage to burn the phone while cooking as opposed to actual food. So, congrats.
6. jes | November 27th, 2006 at 8:32 am
I am not sure that I have ever met someone (though, technically, i have not met you) who has as many problems as you while cooking food. You should get, like, some kind of award or something.
GAH. Reading this? I was laughing. At you. (And, obviously, with you. I’m sure you see the humor in this.)
If you’re ever in want of something to blog about, just start cooking.
Oops! Was that mean?
7. Jamie | November 27th, 2006 at 10:09 am
First of all, my security code phrase was “mufck,” which makes me endlessly happy…because it’s obviously shorthand for my swear du ‘jour. He he.
Secondly, the only thing MORE disturbing than the crinoline around the neckline of Kate’s (it’s Kate now, yes?) gown was the fact that she was OBVIOUSLY squatting in that cave picture in order to make Tom look taller. That, or they placed her in a natural stone hole. Either way.
8. Tartine | November 27th, 2006 at 10:22 am
The melted phone thing is freaking me out! Did this cause your lemon bars and kugel to taste like burning plastic? That was my first thought. Please tell me the baked goods were fine!
9. Schnozz | November 27th, 2006 at 11:52 am
Mmmmmm, cocktail wieners.
That is all.
10. Amanda | November 27th, 2006 at 1:43 pm
You’re being too hard on yourself…the planning and hosting is very taxing! I am always exhausted after company leaves, even if I only served a frozen pizza for dinner. All the cleaning befoehand, the planning, the stress….I think you handled it like any normal person would have.
11. Zoot | November 27th, 2006 at 1:52 pm
My first big meal I ever cooked was Christmas about five years ago. I dropped the ham on the floor (still served it) and poured diet coke in the mashed potatoes (accidentally). So, yeah. I feel ya.
12. hollywoodgirl | November 27th, 2006 at 6:07 pm
Turkey apron?
13. Orange Peacock | November 27th, 2006 at 6:47 pm
Just having people around who aren’t there usually raises stress levels through the roof, so don’t be hard on yourself. Did you eventually get the melted plastic out of the oven, or will your house forever reek of plasticky Hades every time you cook? At least you didn’t accidentally dump dinner down the garbage disposal. I’ve done that.
Three cheers to Thanksgiving being over! THAT’S something to be thankful for!
14. carol | November 27th, 2006 at 8:11 pm
I agree – it’s hard coordinating a dinner for others – even if everything isn’t cooked from scratch. I had the exact same feeling even though I wasn’t hosting. I insisted on making tons of food that I wanted to have at dinner and then BITCHED that I had too much to do! I did a lot of heavy sighing and wore the flour all over my sweatshirt with pride as I did some last minute shopping at Albertson’s on Thursday morning.
I don’t know how people do this stuff on a weekly or monthly basis! I’m just so thankful we have leftovers for awhile.
15. jonniker | November 27th, 2006 at 8:47 pm
Tartine: The baked goods survived! It was a…Thanksgiving miracle, I guess.
16. jen fromboston | November 29th, 2006 at 11:48 am
if this wasn’t a day for you to drink the bottle of cooking sherry, I don’t know what is.
Speaking of which, this is exactly why I bring wine/dessert. Both of which I BUY and don’t even need to be heated.
I cannott believe you killed the phone. my hat off to ya, sister.
17. dissed | November 30th, 2006 at 6:29 pm
Thought Loretta slapped Ronnie. Wasn’t Johnny in Sicily?
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