Hey Ma, I'm okay

Long story short, Manboy moved back home after undergrad telling us he'll be living here for a year while studying to go to law school. Yeah focus on the italics my friend. He decided that he will now put off grad school and look for a job. Yup, in this market, with a basket weaving degree, no experience since he's constantly training, for triathlons. So that has not been going well seeing my own bro being a bum around the house while totally trashing everything. Literally, there is triathlon shit everywhere and asking him to do anything about putting stuff away I get the standard jock profanities, come on, at least use some more descriptive ones! That combined with events that happened last week made it really hard where I found myself just balling at having no control over anything whatsoever.

This week, I am determined to carve a little space each day to make myself feel like I can live somewhat civilized and not eat junk food or bowls of ice cream because I no longer have the energy to deal. I will track my civilized meal for one (since Manboy claims my cooking is bad for working on his fitness, but will eat everything in the fridge once I go to sleep), and show Ma that I'm ok and I will manage until she gets back/Manboy gets kicked out by yours truly. Then I can focus on these pretty pictures and plan my next meal, because cooking for one is hard as shit and I got to stay creative, and by creative, I mean daydreaming during work.

First up I bought myself some awesome packs of naan dough that requires just plain pan frying. I got yelled at for feeding the chickens hotdogs (they love it!) so I guess I had to make something with the hotdogs for human consumption.


Pigs in a Naan

· Precooked hot dogs (I used chick'n)
· Defrosted Naan dough (bought at Asian markets), make sure the dough is defrosted enough that they can be rolled up.
Roll up the dogs in the blanket and then pan fry until fluffy crispy. Served on plain plate so I jazzed up with Anthropology table cloth.

No I didn't eat all four. I ate two and then packed away the other two for lunch tomorrow but of course, they disappeared due to a mystical creature we named the "The Attack of the Overnight Locust."

(in his defense, he did go out and get me a 7-11 hot dog as replacement for breakfast, loaded with sauerkraut and jalapeno, and cheese, and I threw up in my mouth a little bit, because it was 7 in the morning, and took it to work. I just can't comprehend the logic of jocks).

Can you tell I lurve cooking? It totally relaxes me and I can forget the rest of the house, that is filled with stoopit bike shoes for jerks, bagillion bikes (I've asked man boy to explain to me how my rationale of two cheeks per bike seat doesn't equate his cheeks to I think we're about five bikes hanging/propped on various vertical surfaces and he just huffed and puffed and went to work out or something). I can have pretend Nie moment, where I look incredibly cute, my house is immaculate, and my cooking delicious.

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