I cook alone.

This is my life. (And this book has been ordered).

This past Monday I decided to cook dinner for a good friend of mine. We usually do happy hour somewhere (Bar Louie), but in my recent efforts to tackle some recurring New Years resolutions long before 2014 arrives (that is how neurotic my planning goes), I decided to invite her over and cook us dinner.

"Should I come early and help?!" she asked considerately earlier that day.

"No that's okay - I will call you when it's ready!" (aka, Absolutely NOT). 

I have to cook alone and here is why:

This is my sister.

When I was growing up my sister and I would always plan "elaborate" (pretty standard) breakfasts for our parents' special occasions. We would shop the grocery store for the ingredients and get excited to be big girl chefs together! But the morning of, when we would "sneak" downstairs to get things started, my sister (in true older sister fashion) would morph into Chef Gordon Ramsay from Hell's Kitchen and take control. I was allowed to set the table and microwave the bacon. And that was it. (This explains why I still have issues cracking eggs).

Outside of that, my mom always saw cooking dinner as "mom" (wine) time and I always saw it as "homework" (watch Saved By The Bell) time, so I wasn't really one to be mommy's little sous-chef. (This explains why I love wine and Saved By The Bell). 

In college, I have two words for you - Meal plan. (This explains why I gained five pounds every semester).

By the time I was a big girl with my own kitchen, I really only knew how to do a few things, such as: break-and-bake cookies, grilled cheese and anything that utilized a microwave. (Sometimes I would just microwave the break-and-bake cookies to avoid the stove altogether).

Here is what you can conclude - the kitchen is NOT my bitch. 

This is what you think is happening.

So I am sure you can imagine why I cook alone. 

I am going to mess up. I will very likely burn myself. Profanities will be used. Recipe's misunderstood. Main meal items (like the squash I tried to saute when my hand was attacked by crackling olive oil) will be discarded and microwave broccoli will covertly replace it without you ever knowing the squash existed in the first place. 

This is what is actually happening. 

I cook alone so that when the smoke alarm goes off (as it ALWAYS does in my apartment) I can quickly click on the microwave vent, super-woman-it to the ceiling fan, swing wide open both doors while flinging my body around the room violently to create air circulation. 

I cook alone so that I can drink an entire bottle of wine, listen to Celine Dion, and shove piles of cheese in my mouth to calm my nerves without judgement.

I cook alone so that you THINK I can actually cook. 
Works every time my friends. 
Now, who's coming to dinner?