I made Tomato Pie tonight. It was awesome! --- I think.
The Paula "I butter my butter" Deen recipe called for : Tomatoes, cheddar cheese, mozz cheese, mayo, basil and green onion and a pie shell. I had half of these so I improvised with cheddar cheese, mexican cheese, mayo, spinach, onion and a pie shell. All one had to do was slice the tomato, layer it with the onion and green stuff and then smear on the mayo/cheese coating.
And bake at 350 for 30 minutes.
It kinda ended up tasting like a confused quiche. But Drema (aka "The Mammy") liked it so I guess I should consider it a compliment on my cooking/subbing prowess.
What else is new with Holly the Master Chef Shivel?
Well, I think I'm officially dying. At almost 33 years old I have hit the plateau of being "unhealthy" and realized that I really CAN'T get any more unhealthy without having to order all my clothes through the mail.
From big catalogues.
With Circus Folk on the cover.
So I set an alarm on Monday to remind me to call my doctor and only after snoozing it 14 times did I finally call. And I asked for the works: Blood Sugar, Thyroid, Cholesterol, you name it - I was gonna have it tested. And yes, I actually requested them to take more blood.
"Would you like to come have the lab drawn here?" the ever-pleasant nurse asked me over the phone.
"Would you like to have to pick me up off the floor when I pass out like a whiny baby?" I asked.
"So - let's send you to the hospital..."
I'm glad to finally be taking charge of my life. For years I've been self-destructive and uncaring since I really only had me to hurt but seeing as how I've noticed I'm the only one (big Harry not included) who is going to stand up for that little sweet-cheeked boy who just screamed at me -- not his fault - 'roids' bender-- for a good two hours - I figure I better be able to live past 45 and get to see him graduate high school.
And be able to squeeze my big fluffy posterior into those damn stadium seats at the Civic Arena. I swear - If I'm ever at that damn arena and it collapses to the ground in a pile of rubble - I'll be the only one to survive - pinned in my seat like a sausage in a pair of tongs - high above the skinny ass carcasses who died in their skinnier jeans.
But I digress.
The pie? It was weird but good.
Me? Weird but good, too.