Biting into another week

One more Monday is about to shut its eyes. Woo! And booooo. Tuesday is peeking out, and when it's full face, I have to go to the dentist. So, thank you, Monday. Except for my poofy toothy, you were pretty painless.

I think they're going to tell me I need a(nother) root canal. I'm calling it right now.

Well, speaking of mouths and things that go in them... Last night, I fried some chicken for the first time. Pounded out some chicken tenderloins fairly thin + egg mix + bread crumb/garlic/paprika etc. + a little veggie oil = a delicious tasty treat. Definitely not something you eat every day but I'm a big fan of a hearty Sunday dinner for a nice weekend closer and that one turned out great. I have no pics because the evidence was eaten too quickly.

I feel like I earned my Southern Girl Cookin' badge.

I wish I did have badges to put on my apron. A poached egg badge. A roasted chicken badge. Really though, before badges, I wish I had an apron that wasn't splattered in paint and originally from Warehouse Music. (Y'all remember Warehouse Music? Heh, shoutouts to Jessica P & Ikkin!) I think - no, I know - my apron grosses Andrew out.

Hey, it may be able to stand up on its own from the many layers of paint but it's clean.

I promise.

Saw a little (does a couple minutes in the kitchen count?) of the U of Kentucky game tonight. Andrew had it on and it's the first time I've seen Calipari in action since he jumped ship. Calipari's sort of like a bad break-up... When you think back, you do remember why you were together. But every time you see his face, you want to break something and tear up the mask of his face that you got in Kansas City the year after we went to the Finals (aka The Gruesome Twosome). The year we were supposed to be no good but still made the playoffs AFTER the (now deleted year) of...

Sigh. Oh, well. I'm just gonna stop.

I should maybe stop trying to "talk" sports (bye, Iverson... barely knew ya) and stick to my little ole cookin' shows. I'm just around it a LOT. Although, hopefully, I'll soon pick up some tips from The Blind Side. Andrew doesn't want to see it but, Sandy B, you're my girl! Maybe I can talk my mama into going to a little Shady Brooks Cinemas over Thanksgiving.

Sidenote: Why do some people spell it "momma"? I much prefer "mama". It's just so much better for some reason. I'm just sayin'... I'm taking a strong stance here.

Alrighty-o, Internet. The Girl that Played with Fire is calling. I must answer. And Internet, don't forget to floss. It's the classy thing to do.

PS - Mom, you seen the trailer? Let's go!