Love Lucy, hate Sarah.

(February 11, 2007)

I haven't baked anything in about eleven years. I think I can remember the exact occasion of my last baking experience, and I think I made chocolate chip cookies while babysitting. I got a banana-shaped burn on my hand that I thought would turn into a badass scar, but didn't. I think that's the last time I baked, because when I offer to help my mom, who runs a catering business, she usually says, "No! I mean, that's ok." Helping my mom in the kitchen has always been limited to wrapping leftovers or washing dishes, and I'm pretty sure that doesn't count as baking, even if I happen to be in the same room where the baking is going on.

I've recently acquired a baking dish, which I usually use for chicken but, today, I decided I had to make a cake. Naively, I thought this would go pretty well because I got a mix from a box (I know my limitations), and the directions only called for three additional ingredients -- and one of them was water.

Since I haven't baked in eleven years, though, I forgot that every time I try to bake, my kitchen ends up looking like a really sad I Love Lucy rerun. My first problem was that I didn't have a bowl large enough to mix the incomprehensible-chemical-fusion cake powder; I used a spaghetti pot.

My Hurculean strength caused me to spray brown powder over half my kitchen and I had to scrape it, from various surfaces, into the spaghetti pot.

Then I had two eggs, not three, as the recipe called for. I didn't bother to get eggs because, I mean, what kind of domestic retard keeps less than three eggs on hand?

I thought I only had olive oil, but some rearranging of peanut butter and cereal, thankfully, unearthed some vegetable oil. I have no idea how or when I got vegetable oil, but I added some more of that in lieu of a third egg.

But, of course, I don't have a mixer, or a wisk, so I had to use a fork.

And I don't have a spatula, so I had to use a spoon to get all of the batter out of the spaghetti pot.

The cake takes forty minutes to bake, but I wasn't paying attention to what time I put it in the oven because I was thinking about medieval lit.

I'll take it out soon, I guess. What the hell. At least my house smells delicious. You're all invited over for cake.