Confession Time

My problem with people ( especially men people) adulterating my cooking with ketchup, or criticizing my cooking, goes waaaay back.

Back to when I was married to "he who shall remain nameless".

See, years and years ago, I somehow managed to get an entire day off work from both the jobs I was working .

So, since I had all day in front of me, I decided to go all out and prepare a lovely 7-course Chinese meal for my family.

I spent all day cooking and preparing and man 'o man... was I proud of what I had turned out!

Now "nameless", used to work the afternoon shift...but most nights, he would drive the patrol car home for dinner. By the time he had arrived for dinner that night, the kids and I were starving, so they sat down to their meal, while I made up a plate for my husband.

Well, he must have had a bad afternoon at work, (or maybe he hadn't, because he was just an arsehole all of the time and it was extremely hard to tell)... because he took one look at that plate and started raving about how a real man needs meat and potatoes... not that fancy schmancy Chinese stuff !!!

Meat! I tell you, I need Meat! I pay for the &%@ing groceries around here... and I expect meat on my plate!

Okay, ars... ermmmm... honey. I'll fix you something else instead.

Now, we used to have dogs. Big dogs. And when we bought canned dog food, we used to buy it by the case.

So I headed into the kitchen, pulled a can of this off the shelf,

Did this to it :

Dipped it in egg and flour, added a little salt and pepper, and turned it into this:

Which I then presented to him on a fine china plate with a side of canned potatoes. Because nothing but nothing, was too good for my sweet little "he shall remain nameless".

Here's a photo of him....

(Well, this isn't really him, because this cop is eating a donut and he has hair on his head, while my nameless was bald as an egg and he was eating burgers.)

But you get the gist of the table manners... right?

Anyway, arsehole ate everything on his plate... asked for more... undid the top button on his pants, because he was stuffed like a Christmas Goose... farted a couple of times and then told me
"Now that's what I expect to see on the table every week, from now on."

And let me tell you, he well and truly got what he asked for.


And the Old Guy wonders why I get so touchy when what I cook isn't good enough as it is...and he has to smother it in ketchup?
I would like to shove that ketchup bottle where the sun doesn't shine!

I have issues.
Oh my yes... I have issues.