Jaded Jennifer

I swear if I keep watching the Food Network, I’m gonna weigh 900 pounds. The problem is, I have a 5 year old who is absolutely obsessed with watching it. She turns every tv in the house to Food Network, even the one in my bedroom. So I sit here and watch Semi-Homemade with her and then we both end up hungry and I have to go rustle up some grub for us to eat. Unfortunately, nothing I make tastes as good as the stuff on Food Network looks.

So I made us some rice. It’s broccoli and cheese rice and it’s not bad. Nothing special. But eating it with chopsticks always makes it FEEL special and it’s really fun to watch Boogie learning how to use them.

And now my favorite is on…Throwdown with Bobby Flay. (How come every time I type his name, I want to call him Booby?)

I am absolutely in love with Bobby Flay, which is funny because I really didn’t like him for the longest time. Then this show came out and it showed more of his playful personality, and how sweet he really is, while still having a great sense of humor. And, come on, that boy CAN COOK! I totally admit that they key to my heart is a man cooking me good food and serving it to me.

Bobby just challenged a couple of guys to a bread pudding throwdown. Or did he? Because what REALLY happened is, these two guys wrote a blog and said they thought Bobby Flay was going to end up challenging them to a throwdown. Some execs at Food Network saw that blog and sent Bobby to challenge them.

Really? I mean, really? Is that all it takes to get Bobby Flay to show up?

Fine, here’s my challenge then. Bobby, come to MY house. I challenge you to a….sitting on your ass while someone else serves you food throwdown!

No? Hmmmm….

Ok then, I challenge you to a typing throwdown! Because I just bet I can type faster than you.

That doesn’t sound like much fun, huh? Well, come on, I’ve been sitting here for a whole two minutes trying to think of something I could challenge him with. It certainly wouldn’t involve cooking. I’m not a BAD cook. But I’m no Bobby Flay and I really don’t have a special recipe that I cook better than anybody….

I’ve got it!!!

Bobby Flay, I am challenging you to come to my house and teach me a recipe that my WHOLE family will love!

Sure, that sounds easy. You haven’t met my kids. Trust me. In 17 years I’ve only managed to find one or two meals that all 6 of them like and will eat. I think this challenge would be the hardest one yet. Especially if you add in the fact that while you’re cooking this meal, you have to break up fights, get kids to do their homework and try not to trip over the cat and dog that think they have to check on you every five minutes. AND the meal has to be relatively easy, cheap and quick to prepare, keeping in mind that nobody in this house will TOUCH seafood. lol

I think that sounds like an awesome challenge. So what’s the deal, Bobby? You on your way yet?

At least I don’t think I’m dead. Hang on. Let me check.

*feels self up*

Nope. I found a pulse.

I made another blog today. It’s all secret and stuff, though. Sometimes I think that I have so many blogs, in so many places, that I just can’t keep track of them all. I haven’t been writing on any of them lately, though. There really isn’t a huge reason for my absence, except that life has been a suckfest (great word, right?) lately and I didn’t feel like sharing that suckfest with anybody. It’s better just to ignore it and pretend that life is great instead.

Denial is a wonderful thing, isn’t it?

Things are the same as always, though. Kids are growing and driving me insane. The teenagers now have “significant others” which sometimes makes my life easier and sometimes makes it a bigger pain in the ass. It also makes me realize that they’re growing up much quicker than I told them they could, and I think they deserve to be grounded for that.

Boogie is in school all day now. In the beginning, it was very weird. I realized that I’ve had at least one kid home with me for the last 17 years. So now I get to do things like sleep in, spend the afternoon writing, hear the voices in my head (I really missed them) and dance around naked in my living room….with the blinds closed, of course.

We moved last month. Nothing fantastical or anything. Just into an apartment by the kids’ elementary school, like I’ve been telling them we’d do for the last 7 years. What that means to me is, I get to have a slew of kids in and out of my house all evening and weekend. Fun, right?

I’ve learned to love my bedroom.

I’ll try to write more here, I suppose. We’ll see how that goes. I have a tendency to be a blog camel. You know….like a sex camel. Don’t know what a sex camel is? It’s what I used to call my friend Val’s husband because he hardly ever wanted to have sex. I’d say he was like a camel. He’d store it up for a month or so, then he’d need it again to store it up and so on. Get the idea? Well, I realized I’ve been a blog camel for the last 7 years or so. I’ll write every single day (sometimes two or three times a day) for a week or two, and then I won’t write at all for a couple of months. It’s ok, though. I’m just storing it all up in my head so it can come eventually come spouting out.

Ok. I’m hungry. But too lazy to go find something to eat. I think I’ll go take a nap instead.

In this house, you don’t leave yourself open. It’s much like being a boxer really. If you let your guard down you’re bound to get hit.

I’m not talking about physical blows, although Boogie does have a mean right hook. No, I’m talking about those little mental slaps we all give each other. In the name of fun, of course. One of the things I love about my kids (trust me, there really are a lot of things) is that they’re all smart-asses and we all give each other shit all the time.

Wren takes the brunt of a lot of it, though. I tried to tell him last night, it’s his own fault. He leaves himself open ALL the time. Like the other day at the park when we were hanging out with all of his friends and two of them started wrestling. Wren said “Why does this remind me of gay porn?” My response? “Because you watch too much of it.”

He left himself open. Set himself up for the blow.

Another example of the conversations in our house? Well, last night I was sitting at the table sewing. Katie and Hunter were watching me, much like they watch the television at the end of the day. Somehow I had become their entertainment. Wren was in the kitchen behind me making us all scrambled eggs and toast for dinner. Mikaela went in there and was being weird. Here’s how the conversation went:

Wren: You’re just like your mother.
Mikaela: You’re just like your mother.
Katie: You’re not like your mother, Wren. Your mom is NICE!
Wren, glaring at Katie: Eat shit!
Me (continuing to pin fabric): She’s about to.

Wren said for that statement, I didn’t get any eggs. We were all too busy laughing to pay him much attention, though. And I told him, if he keeps leaving himself open he’s going to keep getting knocked out.

Oh, and don’t worry. I got eggs. And they didn’t taste like shit either.