Why I Never Cook Dinner...

Today, I decided to make dinner for my family. Nothing fancy, just a little casserole and salad for everyone. Quick and easy.

I turned the oven to 475 to preheat, pulled out the tater tots, mixed the sauce, and fried the ground beef. I mixed everything together and opened the oven door. To my surprise, someone had decided to store a thing of choclate frosting and ranch dressing in the oven (I know, right where you keep them too). To my horror, the oven is now covered in a lovely layer of chocolate ranch dressing, that I must say doesn't smell too pleasant.

So now I have a casserole I can't cook because the oven's a mess and an oven that I can't clean because it's too hot. I then resort to storing the casserole in fridge while fanning the smoke out of the room and praying the oven will cool down soon.

After two hours of waiting, the oven is finally cooled enough to clean. And after about another hour of scrubbing and scraping, the oven's finally clean. I open the fridge door to retrieve my casserole and out it falls all over the floor. I stare horror struck at my masterpiece, now reduced to a pile of mush. Another twenty minutes of cleaning and finally, I retreat to my bedroom. Kitchen - 2 Brieann - 0.

As soon as my mother gets home from work, she of course says to me, "After a long day at work, it would be nice to come home and not have to cook. Brieann, why don't you ever make dinner?" My response to her, "Gee mom, I don't know!"

Playing Momma

For the past week, I had to play mom to my sister's five kids: Masen, 13, Pierce, 11, Anjeanae, 9, Elias, 5, and Camlyn, 2.

What was supposed to be three days turned into eight. I'm not gonna lie, I kind of had fun playing house...except for the fact that I wanted to kill Masen by the end of the week. I'm not looking forward to having teenageers.