May 16, 2011
My delicious disaster with the oven bag from a couple weeks ago jogged my memory a bit.
First it reminded me of a game we used to play in college called Humiliation. I was an English Lit geek, so for us, Humiliation meant sitting around and admitting the most, well, humiliating thing we had never read.
Like, if you’re an English Lit geek, and you’ve never read, say, Hamlet, that would be slightly humiliating. Although, for some I guess, it was more of a point of pride. For me, my humiliation weak area was always the Russians. I hated Crime and Punishment, and stopped there. Not counting Lolita, of course. I have tried to make it up, but I’m afraid my opinion isn’t improving.
Anyway. What was I talking about?
Right. My ineptitude in the kitchen. All this nostalgia reminds me of how much (little) I knew about the kitchen when I went to college. I spent my first two semesters in the dorms, and didn’t have to cook. Then I moved into an apartment with my friend Brad (different Brad) for the Summer. One night I agreed to make spaghetti. Which I had never done.
He watched as I carefully read the packaging and as I carefully measured out 12 cups of water, one cup at a time, into the big pot. To boil the spaghetti in.
Despite his laughter and ongoing ridicule, I think I measured my spaghetti water for years afterward. I’m also the guy who reads the instructions on a bottle of water. Open and use.
And now for something completely different. I finally got a helmet mount for my Contour, and took it out into Corner Canyon. You may get a crick in your neck from watching it, because while the trail looks good, it would help if I looked up once or twice. (For my next attempt, if I ever get on my bike again, I’ve raised the mount a bit.)
But the music is good.