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Me, Drunk on my Cooking Show

Me, Drunk on my Cooking Show

Last updated on: May 27, 2009 at 6:06 pm by John Shore

Me, Drunk on my Cooking Show 2009-05-27T18:06:53-08:00 John Shore

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Welcome back to Cooking with John. I’m your cooking toast … your coasting took … your toasted cook.

Har! Toasted cook!

Which I’m not. Because that would be wrong.

Man, I’ll tell you what, though. I don’t know if ol’ Chuck is chargin’ enough for this wine, knowwhaddimean? Not that I myself have imbibed in the TBC. “TBC.” That’s so cool how I say that. But I haven’t dranken … drunk? …. drinked? … downed a bunch more of it than maybe I should have during our commercial break.

Though maybe I should have, now that ol’ Chuck is the biggest sponsor of my show.

Mrs. Dash was gonna sponsor my show. Boy, did she ever dash my hopes. Get it? Well, she did. Like it would have killed her to let me wear a stupid apron with her stupid name on it. An apron! It’s not like I asked to be seen tangoing with her. But no. Apparently my show is just too low-brow for the illustrious Dash family to want to be associated with.

Pffft. Who do they think they are? The Pillsburys?

I used to love that show, The Beverly Pillsberries.

Wait. Beverly … Pullerberries? Bumberly Bellyberries? What was that show called? With the old lady who ate possums? And that lesbian bank assistant? Nancy somethin’?

Oh, forget it. But speaking of eating, let’s get back to cooking. And not back to drinking. Because that would be wrong. Okay, one glass. But remember: booze and cooking don’t really mix. Because there’s knives and stuff. Plus, as every good chef knows, no one knows what the nose can’t know when the nose can’t feel the toes. My dear ol’ grandma used to say that all the time. Now there was a drunk. Unbelievable. You couldn’t light a cigarette around that woman, for fear she’d detonate like a bomb. She was always just soaked. Mothers used to bring their teething babies around just so they could gnaw on the woman. Why not? It was better than the usual whiskey-soaked rag. And didn’t hurt grandma any. I think she kinda liked it. Sometimes there’d be fourteen, fifteen little babies attached all over her, gumming away. It was quite the sight. One I hope to forget before I die, I can tell you that.

Anyway, back to our recipe. What was I making again? Oh, right: Cheesy Deliciousness. Now, where was I with that? Oh—well, here are the ingredients, I see, right here on the counter. I’m so good at bringing everything out early like that.

So the first thing we’ve gotta do is boil some water. Oh, no. I hate boiling water. It takes forever, donsha think? You’d think you could just buy water that’s boiling, wouldn’t you? You can buy cold water. You can buy water with the bubbles. You can buy water infused with rock star horomones, or bull testicle juice, or whatever that nasty stuff is. So why can’t you buy boiling water? You’d think with today’s modern packaging technologies, you should be able to buy water that’s either boiling, or seriously pre-boiling, so that all you had to do is … is …

Oh, forget it. Just forget it! They don’t have that, so there’s no use wishing for it.

You know what? I got sleepy. I donfeel like cookin.’ Why don’t we call this a day, and come back and finish this tomorrow? I think that’d be better. Tonight for dinner let’s just have Cornflakes with raisins. I love Corn Flakes. Don’t you? First, it’s so deliciously crunchy, and then it’s so sublimely … waddy. It’s really the perfect food. So let’s do that.

Till nexsht time!

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