Loading ...It seems that Shelley’s Brownies have started a trend. Brownies have become the official foodstuff of Blogathon ‘07. And a delicious foodstuff too.
But I have been wrestling for what seems like days to get those stupid brownies made.
AND IT WAS A BOX MIX!
First, I couldn’t find our pans! Did our daughter take them to college, I wondered. Then I found one. But it was so large it would have made a micron thin brownie and that didn’t seem like a good idea. Too easy to burn. Next I found a casserole dish that we use for dressing at Thanksgiving. But it was big enough to put a Turkey in. That wouldn’t do. Had to finally use a pie pan. Round Brownies? Why not.
Then there was no vegetable oil. Will olive oil do? Olives are fruits. Fruit oil in brownies? I don’t know if that is advisable. Then the eggs didn’t have a sell by date on them, they had a USE by date on them. And they were past the use by date! But they were only slightly past the use by date. WHO THE HELL PUTS A USE BY DATE ON THEIR EGGS?!! Stupid organic crap. Free range chickens, eh? You still have them in a cage! They aren’t free to come and go as they please. You still steal their eggs! And you still kill ‘em in the end. I mean, that doesn’t seem very neighborly, now does it?
Then I had nothing to grease the pan. Will butter do? Then there was no god damned butter! All I had was Heart Smart buttery like spread. WHAT IN THE HELL IS BUTTERY LIKE SPREAD?
But wait! There was one last stick of organic butter — in the fruit and veg drawer. Who knows why the hell it was there. Our daughter probably put it there when she was busy stealing our brownie baking pans! It was a victory none-the-less!
BUT THE BUTTER WAS SALTED!!!!
ARGH!
But it had become an obsession. A quest! I had to make these stupid brownies! I had to! Who cared if they were round and contained fruit oil and were salty and had rotten eggs in them?
Not me!
So I made them.
And they are baking.
Goodness knows what they will taste like though.
But I’ll eat them! Just to spite the rotten buggers.
And I’ll enjoy a delicious Tab with them when I do.
Buy me a beer!
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Comments
This entry was posted on Saturday, July 28th, 2007 at 5:57 pm and is filed under criminal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
You are way more disciplined than I would have been.
About halfway through this saga, I would have eaten the raw batter.
Mmm!
I was sorely tempted.
But those brownies were egging me on!
Sorry about the bad pun.
Mojo just told me that free range chickens are not killed. Apparently they stay there until they are ready to retire and move to an island.
I think Mojo fools himself to comfort him during his egg consumption.
Mmmmmm…. buttery.
They all retire to chicken fantasy island! I stand by my theory in spite of the evidence.
He, he… That’s cooking on the edge there Richard!
Sounds like the one time my father made us Xmas dinner. He had bought some extra pans, as he thought we would not have enough.
Back home he came to the amazing conclusion there were only four burners on the stove…
Eeehh…
I still got some of the extra pans from that dinner
Bas, I love that story.
And extra pans for Xmas. It is a gift that really gives back.
The brownies are out of the oven cooling. I’ll let everyone know if they are hideous or delicious.
Or somewhere in between.
Yep, that’s a dad story, Bas.
Would the in-between be hidalicious?
totally high-sterical brownie saga.
God, I hope they taste good for all your trouble. I would have just gone down to the corner store to buy a bag of the two bite brownies and left the brownie mix sitting in the kitchen…
Haha! I know, that’s just what we should have done, Shelley.
Shelley, I think in the future I will use your solution.
Much faster return on investment.
Will my brownies be hidalicious?
I also love the chicken fantasy island thought.
I’ve always wanted to start a retirement home for people’s pets. They can send their pets there before they die and leave with the image of their pet spending the rest of his/her days in a big home with a crazy black lady that loves animals and talks to them all. That’s my insanity.
Sounds great, Shelley. Where do I sign up? It’s not for my pet. It’s for me. I like talking to crazy ladies.
That is a great idea. The best part of the idea is the original pet owners sitting around talking about their former pets up in their retirement community.
I just imagine them sitting on the front porch talking about what a good long working life their pets had before retirement.
The first Thanksgiving Mojo and I spent together was house sitting for his boss in Manhattan. His boss had a cat who looked like she was 100 years old. Bill the Cat from Bloom County was better put together than this poor old puss. She could have used a happy retirement village.
Poor ol’ kitty! She was OLD.