Not My Day…

First off, getting files onto a new Kindle Fire is about as painful as giving a great while shark a sponge bath. The shark doesn’t need a sponge bath, the shark doesn’t want a sponge bath, and, in fact, has only gotten into this sponge bath deal for the chance at a free lunch.

I decided to cheer myself up by making fresh pasta. I am not sure what I did, but it cooked up so tough I am saving the bit that I did not throw away to make a pair of boots.

Undeterred, I peeled and cored six apples to make my favorite dessert, apple crisp.

When I was locked up in horticulture in a last ditch effort by my high school to find someplace, anyplace, to inter me, I used to steal flowers from the greenhouse to bribe the lunch ladies for vast trays of apple crisp. I love the stuff. I will fight you for apple crisp.

I peeled my first apple leaving the entire peel as one long strand. Mom said to throw it over my shoulder. The peel will fall in the shape of the first letter of the name of the next person I will marry.

I threw the peel over my shoulder. I turned around.

“What letter is it?” Mom asked.

“It’s not a letter. It’s handcuffs.”

“Oh, don’t be silly… Oh. That does look like handcuffs.”

So, enough of that. I peeled two more apples without breaking the peel, but I not try that fun bit of folklore again.

Anyway, there I was. Making apple crisp and just happy as a pig in poop. As a finishing touch, I dusted the confection with cinnamon.

Wait a second… Why am I smelling Taco Bell?

I look at the jar and read: CUMIN.

Oh. My. God.

There are many spices that you can add to apple crisp. Cinnamon, nutmeg, a pinch of cloves and even allspice if you are feeling daring. Notice that cumin is not on this list? Why? Because the taste and smell is akin to having a toddler eat apple pie followed by a big bowl of really questionable chili and then immediately throwing up in your car. This is the worst thing I have ever had in my mouth, and keep in mind that I once swam my way out of a sewage-filled trench in East Machias, Maine.

Cumin and apple crisp is so awful I would not serve to somebody I hated. It is horrible. This is not an exaggeration. I tasted the crumb batter. Half an hour later, and I am still tasting it. Yeech. Cumin and apple crisp. I have become death, the destroyer of worlds.

If being late with the lamb sauce gets you screamed at by that great doughy hair-plugged British fancy lad Gordon Ramsay, I am sure adding cumin to apple crisp would make the man violent enough to kick me in the groin.

Hell, after tasting that, I wanted to kick myself in the groin!

So, this has not been my day. I am going to go drown my sorrows with hot tea and watch some horror movies.

Tomorrow, I’ll go buy more apples!