Bleck-a-do!

Bleck-a-do means some type of food sounds/looks/tastes disgusting, by the way. My father says it, I have no idea where it came from.

I consider myself to be a reasonably good cook. I'm no foodie, and I never went to culinary school, but I can hold my own in the kitchen. I used to fail at making easy mac, so I've come a long way. Because I get home before Andrew, I make about 80% of our meals. Aside from using too much Chinese 5 spice (which I like, but apparently he doesn't) Andrew's never complained, so I think I'm doing an okay job. The only thing I don't make is anything Mexican. Andrew reigns supreme with the Mexican dishes (aside from nachos, because let's face it, anyone can throw some cheese on top of Tostitos and throw it in the microwave), and I have never questioned his authority. He makes really good Mexican.

My problem starts here: I was craving quesadillas all day. With fresh peppers and onions, chicken, and cheese. Yummy. But Andrew has class tonight. "Doesn't matter" I thought, "how hard can quesadillas possibly be?"

Famous
last
words.

I ruined them. No, that insinuates I actually made them. I didn't even get that far. I had peppers and onions cut up, chicken boiling, and tortillas warming. It just couldn't come together.

I haven't failed at anything food related so badly since I was in high school and I was making chocolate chip cookies and I read 2 1/2 cups of flour as "two half cups" instead of "two AND a half cups" of flour.

I don't evn know how I messed up, I just did. I simply couldn't get it to come together. I'll have to get Andrew to teach me how to do it. I feel like I want to throw up after eating what I concocted.

But in better news, I have boiled chicken and pepers and onions all cut up for a stir fry tomorrow night. Less prep work!


P.S. Heath Ledger. What a damn shame. He quit us :( I hope it wasn't suicide. I hope it was an accident. That poor little girl has to grow up without a father now.