My dad’s birthday is Saturday, and I don’t want to be an asshole daughter (with me being an only child, there isn’t any other siblings to bear the weight of gift giving on holidays and birthdays),so what's a
cheaper more loving way to show my love from 1400 miles away?
Like many activities I do, I baked while drunk. I almost added some booze to the cookies, but I didn’t want to fuck them up and be forced to start over. Although, once I considered the idea of adding liquor to baked goods, I saw some culinary projects in my future. Like some mint chocolate chip cookies with baileys irish cream. What better way to celebrate my heritage in a way that DOESN’T include blacking out? Kahlua brownies sound pretty goddamn tasty too. I know rum is added to tiramisu, but honestly, what COULDN’T benefit from some rum?
Even without alcohol in them, my oatmeal raisin cookies were spectacular. Even this morning, when I was sober, they STILL tasted goddamn good. They taste as good as your first thai hooker. And the anticipation for the next bite, it’s like that of fundamentalists, anticipating Christ’s return. But with these cookies, there is tangible proof, so you know it is real and will happen.
I did my cooking in LawyerMan’s kitchen, partially because I don’t have the right tools and partially because one of my room mates is a fat man who would probably eat the cookies faster than I could bake them. It would look like one of those “I Love Lucy” skits, with cookies being shoveled into his mouth and me busting ass to bake more. The drunker I got, the more the batter was strewn around the kitchen, and the more misshapen my cookies became. There’s one cookie that is shaped like the state of Texas. I also kept slurring something about “NOT ENOUGH RAISINS!” and towards the end LawyerMan asked me if I was going to have any cookies with those raisins.
I think people take cooking too seriously. If you aren’t having fun while doing it, then don’t bother. When I saw how stiff and rigid Martha Stewart was with cooking, it made me want to punch her. If you can’t become borderline shitfaced while baking, then you might as well just be a tool, and buy cookies from the store.