Lately, I�ve taken to cooking up a great big mess of something-or-other on Sundays to see me through the week as far as lunch or dinner go. Like, a few weeks ago I made a huge vat of my mother�s prize-winning chili (or, it would win prizes if she�d ever go to those Chili Cook-Offs, like I keep telling her to), and it fed me for a whole week for lunch!
See, it�s practical and economical, and it means I can take my weeknights and just relax, rather than worry about prepping and cooking and cleaning and all the rest of it. Really, it�s pretty failsafe. Last night, I made a huge bowl of my own prize-winning chicken salad (which admittedly hasn�t won any prizes [yet], but only because they don�t have Chicken Salad-Offs ), which is really quite involved, followed by a big old bucket of fried rice to have as a tasty side dish that only requires minimal preparation (read: microwaving).
Now, unfortunately, there isn�t really a point to this story. Frankly, I�m only using it as a setup so I can get to the scary part. See, I was cooking and listening to the Emmys (and what the fuck is up with Lena Olin not getting the award for Best Supporting Actress? That�s a load of crap, is what that is) and generally minding my own business, when I reach into the cabinet to pull out one of these small glass bowls I use to hold various ingredients (such as chopped scallions, as was the case last night) until the recipe calls for their use.
Now, I pull out this bowl, and inside was the biggest, fattest, scariest-ass silverfish I have ever seen in my entire life. Have you guys ever seen a silverfish? For those who haven�t, they look like the unholy spawn of an earwig (gah!) and a centipede (eek!), only they�re this silvery gray color, and they run around all super-fast and probably do all sorts of insanely creepy things while you�re sleeping�I don�t want to think about it. Let�s move on.
The point is, this radioactive, mutant silverfish that looked like fucking Jabba the Hutt with six legs was kicking back in my bowl, and of course I didn�t see him till I had put my fingers all up in there and pulled it down from the cupboard, at which time Jabba got agitated and started to run in circles, the motion catching my attention through my peripheral vision, causing me to shriek at the top of my lungs (in a manly fashion) and throw the bowl across the room, doing a full-on body shudder-and-recoil move that wasn�t dissimilar to something done by Jennifer Beals in Flashdance.
I have to confess that it probably wasn�t my proudest moment, although I think if you had seen the way it looked at me, like it was Scarface and I�d done something to upset �The Family�, I think my reaction was completely reasonable. The bowl didn�t break (not that I�m ever going to use it again, anyway), but Jabba escaped into the oblivion behind the fridge, where he and his fourteen thousand brothers and sisters are no doubt planning to lay their eggs in my chest cavity as revenge, so their hatchlings can feed on my sweet flesh.
Oh crap.
Someone Got Here By Searching For: �throw up� thanksgiving dinner And: �Rachael Ray� boyfriend I�m Pissed Off Because: I was going to take full advantage of my bathtub tonight, but the damn plug-thingy is rusted solid. I�m Reading: Heather�s diary, and seeing eerie similarities (though she surely got the worst of it). Have we stumbled into some kind of otherworldly, entomological nexus? I fucking hope not.