Culinarily Disinclined

Dyke of Awesomeness's picture

I'm coining a new term. 'Culinarily Disinclined'. For those of us who just can't cook. My culinary triumph today was a salad. I wshed the lettuce all by myself, and even chopped it up. I feel sort of sorry for who ever ends up using what remains of the lettuce, but hey. I put it in the bowl, and even added some parmesain. Of course, I accidentally added WAY to much dressing, so it sort of burned going down. My god, I'm so freaking pathetic. OK, so to take my medication, the stuff I'm on for my pnemonia, I have to eat something. I'm supposed to take two pills, three times a day. No problem, right? Well my dad went to church, so he woke me up at like eleven. Ok, when your daughter has trouble breathing, but is asleep, DON'T WAKE HER UP!!!!! Anyway, so I had a bowl of cereal. Which I repeated for lunch, then I wanted to have something that didn't come dried in a box, so I made my failure of a salad.

That was all fine and dandy, but then I have like nothing to do, so I pick up Twilight. I know, shoot me later. I HATE that book. HATE it with a firey passion. I want that book to burn in the hell the mormon author believes in so strongly for all of eternity. Wow, that was a weird sentence. Anyway, so I've read like a hundred pages of it today. Well, re-read it. I went through a Twilight faze when I was in seventh grade. Please, don't shoot me, I've seen the flaws in my ways, and I've changed. So what brought on this sudden regretion into my seventh grade days? Depression. Straight up depression. Somewhere between doses of cough medicine, steroids, and albuterol treatments, it hits you: You are really fuckin' sick.

My mom is pretending to be sick as well. Ok, so she probably has the cold this started out as, but really? You're going to spend two days in bed while your daughter is trying to wait half an hour more until she can take her meds to breath? Thanks, I eally love that I can only be sick for so long before you jump on the band wagon. But heres the truth: I can't feed the dogs, I can't bring you water, I can't. You know why? Because it hurts to breath. I can barely make it to my chair in the morning without needing to use my rescue inhaler. But I do it anyway because I don't want to spend all day staring at the ceiling. I'm sick. Not just kinda sick, really sick. And I would like you to please not pretend that you are suffering more than me. You have a COLD. Do you know what I would give to have a cold right now? Yeah, I know, I'm being a bitch. But this has been fourteen years in the making. I've wanted to say this for a really long time. Sometimes, I need you to get it together and not just sit there, acting like you need help as well. I know you never got taken care of when you were a child, I know my grandpa was horrible as a parent, trust me, you haven't let me forget it. But I'm your daughter, and I need you to be the parent.