Fruit Salad, Yummy, Yummy.

There was this stupid guitar in the toy department at Wal Mart that would sing a song about fruit salad. Obviously any twenty-something-year-old is going to find this piece of plastic a novelty. There were many a giggle over that borderline homosexual contraption.

Baking Theory was this morning. Nothing much was said other than that I needed to yet again, bring a calculator to class and that there were a crapload of jobs in the industry, ESPECIALLY in the Niagara area, for some reason. This is good, no?
I'm sure I'll be fine, I just have to work to understand the math which will be difficult, 'cause I sincerely hate it.

I learned how to use a knife today and am quite proud of myself for not cutting off any of my digits.
A Chef's Knife, a Paring Knife and a Bread Knife came in the three hundred dollar kit that I purchased from George Brown. Luckily for me, all of the knives are complete shit and need to be sharpened badly according to Chef Shabler (the man who would rather die than smile). Needless to say that my hate for the George Brown book store has just expanded.
I learned different cutting techniques, how to place the knife against my knuckles (which I still won't do, mostly out of fear), and how important it is to have good equipment while trying to slice an orange properly. Taking the skin off an orange and still managing to have something that looks like an orange is excessively difficult. Oranges are the devil.

We ended up with buckets of fruit salad. I bought two to bring home for Andrew and me. It's some good shit and I fear that I really shouldn't be impressed with a bucket of diced fruit, but I sincerely am. I think it's the chopped mint leaves.

I cooked for two hours last night.
I made chicken (six breasts marinated in three different types of mustard, hot sauce and evaporated milk), macaroni and cheese and carrots (cooked with a dollop of honey and a bit of brown sugar). I also made dinner for tonight, but can't take credit for it 'cause the crock pot is doing all the work downstairs. I did dice the vegetables though... It can be time consuming.
So after doing all this work and timing it perfectly so that it was all coming out of the oven the minute Andrew walked in the door, he walked right past me, grabbed a cantalope, cracked it open and ate it. I said,

"If I knew you were going to have a cantalope for dinner, I wouldn't have bothered cooking."

And he said,

"Oh, don't worry. I'll still eat your food."

Wonderful.
So after dinner I did half of the dishes, swept the floor, had a shower and went to bed. He asked me why I was so tempermental and then went to jerk off to some porn.

Does he really need to ask?