Tonight, my sweet mother felt like making us steaks for dinner.
There's only one problem with this choice... Ok maybe two... 1. She's never cooked steaks before and 2. She normally does not eat steak.
Now she's never been a master of the kitchen for the 25 years that I've known her. 84% of my life consisted of Bagel Bites, hot pockets and corn dogs. 10% was me having dinner at friends houses and the last 6% was, indeed, my moms cooking (meatloaf, spaghetti and chicken tetrazzini).
The steaks were... It was... It tasted... She gave a very valiant effort. Really. It wasn't bad bad. I give her a C+. And that's mostly because she took a barrage of comments from me and my dad...
Me-Well, the salad was good.
Dad-No, the salad dressing was good, because it helped me get the steak down.
Dad-If we were in a eating contest, we'd get dead last cuz we would still be chewing.
Dad-Tastes like rocks.
Dad-I bet this cow is sayin "If I woulda known she was gonna cook me like this, I never would have got in the line at the slaughter house.
Me-Why save it for tomorrow, it already tastes like leftovers.
Me-I blame me not eating it on my wisdom teeth that will be pulled on Friday.
Mom - You know how many starving African kids would be happy to have that dinner?
Dad - They would be mad at you right now.
Mom - At least they would be grateful.
Me - I'm grateful for bagel bites.