After a night or two of eating like a complete idiot ( hot dogs/cookies/mexican) I decided to make myself a sensible dinner last night of baked chicken breast and steamed veggies.
I thawed and oiled up a nice big hunk of chicken. Adding a generous amount of every spice in my spice drawer, I plopped the bird in the oven and nuked some veggies in my too-cool-does-everything-but-eat-the-food-for-ya microwave.
Twenty five minutes later, I'm seated at the bar in my kitchen, tears welling over the lovely feast before my eyes. The chicken is perfect with a nice crusty herb coating and the veggies are bright orange, green and red. At this point I'm not even that upset over - BREAKING A NAIL WHILE MAKING DINNER! UGH!
I take my knife and remove a small corner of the chicken. Spearing a carrot I place the bite in my salivating mouth and slowly chew.
I must call someone and tell them of my homemade dinner! I think to myself.
Picking up the phone, I dial from memory and wait for the other side to connect.
"Hello? Papa Johns? Yes - I just made the most disgustingly bland dinner! Send me your biggest pizza, please!"