Monday, May 08, 2006

Cooking?

Don’t have time to write. Deadline tomorrow. I unheart writing books.

You know what happens when I’m trying to write a book? I get blocked. And then you know what happens? CRAZY THINGS. In order to avoid the book writing I will do just about anything. Anything.

Which is why I ventured down to my kitchen and decided to cook some chicken. Was I hungry? Uh, no. But there is chicken! Why not cook it?! What’s bad about having cooked chicken in the house?! Nothing! Let’s cook! The book will just have to wait, I’m cooking! Very important that I cook!

Well then. Turns out that cooking was a good unblocker because once I got back up to my room I started writing like a madwoman. Until the Roommate knocked on my door two hours later, "Uh, are you still cooking down there? Cause it smells weird."

Yeah.

Small price to pay for getting unblocked, is what I say. That chicken gave his life to the good fight.

7 comments:

tornwordo said...

Funny. I need to try that.

Chunks said...

I hope you threw the pan out, because that looks like it will never come off, no matter how you soak it!

Chicken, the great unblocker.

Patricia said...

good grief, you must've been blocked bad to have stooped so low as to cook. next thing, you'll say you even cleaned.

it'll just provide for good material on the book tour. and if i get up the courage, i'll even ask you a question about it as you sign my book.

Wee dog lover said...

So wait you just cooked? You didn't eat? Not that I'd want to eat whatever is in that pot. It kind of looks like red bell peppers swathed in motor oil. I am glad this helped you get unblocked, though. It's too bad the roomate didn't put the wee dog on the stove just to mess with you.

Lightning Bug's Butt said...

Hockey Puck A La Mode?

Anonymous said...

I should have known not to get my hopes up when you called to ask how many ounces in a cup for the rice recipe. Good thing you aren't writing a cook book! mom

dawn said...

Hey! The damn rice turned out fine. Because damn rice doesn't require me to remember it an hour later. The damn rice understands that I have a short attention span.

Now if only the damn rice would tell me how many ounces are in a cup.