Four things that fry my A$$...

Since nothing of any import happened last night, today is dedicated to a rant, and quite probably, my latest lurid cooking fantasies. So, without any more pretentious ado…

THINGS THAT FRY MY A$$:
1) Non-stick pans don’t really brown potatoes… Especially not sweet potatoes.
2) The sentence “oil has hit another all-time high,” when used on the evening news.
3) Being male, but on the bride’s side in a wedding.
4) Horniness as a waiting game.

And now, I shall address all of the aforementioned issues in the order that they were presented.

Non-stick pans don’t really brown potatoes… Especially not sweet potatoes. Last night, I was lazy, wanted to try out my new “eco-friendly” non-stick pan at slightly higher temperatures, and therefore decided to fry thin-sliced sweet potatoes. So, I sliced the damned thing up thin, with thick slabs of garlic and big chunks of onion. I sprayed the pan with a little grape seed oil, and cranked the heat to medium-high… well, kinda low medium-high, but still. I had to keep adding oil, which blew donkey balls, as the only time the stinkin’ potatoes would brown was when there was oil to soak off the bottom of the pan. Plus, they were still so crisp in the center, I had to boil off a little water and irish whisky from the bottom of the pan to soften them up, which meant re-browning. Grr. No more potatoes in the non-stick pan!

The sentence “oil has hit another all-time high,” when used on the evening news, sends chills up my spine… in a bad way. It’s not so much that said slogan is sensationalistic. I mean, it’s the news, so that’s a forgone conclusion. The days when reporters conveyed information for its’ own sake are long since past, a glimmer in the lazy eyes of the joyless Bahbwa Wa-wa and Walter Cronkite. No, it’s the way it’s phrased, the nuances of pronunciation utilized by the bo-toxed to within an inch of paralysis journalistic hoard that annoy me. “OIL (portentiously, all syllables given equal weight heavier than what follows) has hit (slight pause,) another (rushed, with a tone almost of annoyance,) all-time (near-Sulu-like,) high, today…” And it’s always the same. ALWAYS… Male or female, the dead-eyed, rictus-grinning mummy face, regardless of sex, uses the same manner of conveyance. And they always use it to segue into the same damned stories about third world unrest, fundamentalism, terrorism, bad corporate governance, etc. Fudging ratings-grabbers!

Being male, but on the Bride’s side in a wedding is no piece of cake. On the upside, I get to see a few very pretty girls near-naked for the better part of two days. Also, I get to wear a pink vest with my tux. All in all, pretty sexy. However, there’s also the flip-side. The flip-side on which I may or may not be forced to spend a hundred bucks at the spa the day before the wedding, and also be forced to go to the male side, missing out on the bridal dish-fest. There’s the gas it will take to get home, the price of the present, the tux rental, and taking time off work. There’s also the date of the bridal shower, which I have to get off for, as well. Plus, O. is probably not going to be able to come with me, will miss out on meeting my parents, who finally OK’d him staying at the house if he can come, etc. This makes me cranky, because, though the couple is very progressive and could give a fig for sexuality, their families aren’t as forgiving, and I’m walking down the aisle with another boy. Meh. Though, how I think ANOTHER limp-wristed male is going to help the situation, I don’t know. Good thing I love the bride like a sister.

Horniness as a waiting game sucks. Orpheus worked ueber-late last night, then was supposed to go to a rehearsal for the play he got into. This meant I didn’t get to see him. Boo! Also, he has a rehearsal tonight. So I’m going downtown after work, we’re eating hurriedly, and then he’s leaving again. When he gets back, I’m going to be naked as a jay-bird and frothing at the mouth. If he’s not clean, god help my digestive tract, ‘cause as soon as he’s in the door, it’s on a seek-and-find-the-place-where-the-moans-come-from-type mission.