When I cook

When I cook, there is a method. It’s a tried and true method and I refuse to deviate.

The 2 major points in this method of mine?

1. Clean as you go

2. Follow the recipe when using one

Now the kitchen, as I’ve said before is MINE! You MAY be able to use it on the odd occasion, if I’m feeling particulalry bevevolent, but you WILL ask permission BEFORE you even touch one little thing in MY kitchen.

Bodily harm may be the outcome whould you be foolhardy enough to even attempt using MY kitchen before asking, and in fact there are still a few missing bodies from those silly enough to think I wouldn’t know.

Yes people, I KNOW when someone has been using MY kitchen. I come close to measuring the difference between the salt and pepper grinders on the bench. Do you really think I’m NOT going to know?

So. The first thing I do when I’m going to cook, is fill the kitchen sink with hot soapy water. Next in line is the oven if required. it will be lit and set to the desired temperature in order to be ready when it’s needed.

Having done this, the ingredients are next, all lined up on the bench, in whatever order they are required to be added. They look ever so cute, all lined up like little ducks. Does my little OCD heart good to see them so too.

If I’m required to do a mixture of spices, or the garlic and onion need to be sweated in a pan, they will be dutifully chopped, diced, sliced or whatever I need to do to them and they are then placed in a bowl. At this point the knife used will be washed and dried with ever the present tea towel on my shoulder. The board is also washed down and dried in case it’s needed again at a later point. The ingredients already used are put back where I got them from if it’s spices or minced garlic, perhaps ginger, or even sugar.

Please note, the bowl with said onions, garlic, ginger, whatever is needed, is put next to the stove in readiness for the cooking to begin. Why would you out it anywhere else? The stove is where you cook!

Any ingredients that need to be mixed are, and this bowl goes next to the other on the bench, beside the stove.

Once all ingredients that need preparation are done, the pan will be oiled and heated in rediness for the real fun.

Ingredients are added in the order whatever recipe I’m using dictates.

As bowls or plates are emptied they go straight into the sink in readiness to be washed. Little scrubbing once you’re done that way.

Once all is done and merrily simmering or baking or whatever, then you do the dishes. You wash, dry and put them away in the relevant place in the kitchen. There will NOT be one thing NOT as I found it, right down to the salt and pepper. Job done. Easy!

Now, there is a reason for the method. Recipes are created in a certain order. If that order wasn’t important, they’d all run one after the other as opposed to in a list or numbered would they not?

Why you would want to do it any other way is beyond me! It drives me NUTS when people are all over the place like a mad womans shit! Follow the damned method! It’s not frigging brain surgery. It’s A B C, 1 2 3…simple!

It’s like sport. If it wasn’t important, they wouldn’t keep score right?

Now. When I’m in the mood and ALLOW you to use MY kitchen, you WILL do it my way, or you WILL fuck of out of my kitchen.

This is NOT negotiable. This is MY kitchen, and you will do it MY way.

You have a problem with that? 2 options.

Go away

or

I have LOTS of sharp knives that I CAN and WILL use.

See. No arguments. Easy

Germ collectors

I’m quite odd about some things. Many people would say I’m just odd, period, but that’s not quite accurate. Getting off track, sorry.

So. I’m not much into germs. I can handle untidy or messy, but cannot stomach dirty. The problem this creates for me is there are many germ collectors we come into contact with every day, but never think of them as such. We only see them as every day items provided for every day activities.

Here is but a short list:

Shopping trolleys:
How the hell do you know what type of person had it before you? Were they sick? Did they pick their nose immediately prior to grabbing the trolley? Perhaps they sneezed all over the handle? Did they wash their hands after going to the toilet? Did they wash their hands after jerking off the other half before they left the house?

Money: Have you ever looked at your hands after counting all that spare change you keep in a bowl or jar? I can just about guarantee they’ll be putrid! Can you imagine being a bank teller? It would be one of the few clerical jobs where you would need to wash your hands BEFORE you go to the toilet I’m thinking.

Magazines in the doctors waiting room: The next time you’re in the waiting room, look around and see how many people lick their finger or thumb before they turn the page! Given this is a place where sick people congregate, there is now way I’m EVER reading a magazine while I’m waiting to see the doctor.

Public toilet seats: Now, this a place we put one of the most sensitive parts of our bodies! Have you ever thought about the person who may have been sitting there before you? The diseases they could have? Not for nothing do we have those little antiseptic wipes on the wall of the cubicle. For pity’s sake, use them before you even think about sitting down! I’d hate to see you go for a pee and exit with some type of STD!!! Ok, you may not use a public toilet every day, but when you do it would be nice to survive and be able to tell the tale yes?

Public phones: Now I have a mobile phone, mostly for convenience and family, however NOT having to use a public phone is a bonus! Your mouth is where millions of germs thrive regardless of how hygienic you are, so please don’t think I’m suggesting otherwise ok? The mere THOUGHT of who used that phone before me is the stuff nightmares are made of! There are people who pick their nose and eat the resulting little ball of snot, as disgusting as that thought is. Do you really want to be the next person to put the receiver to your mouth?? I know I don’t.

These are but a few items/activities that most of us use/do almost every single day of our life. It’s a big, bad germy world out there let me say! Scary even!

I’m sure you can think of more to add?

Get the boy some help..PLEASE!!!

To the person who continually ends up here because “my son sniffs my panties”, get the boy some help for fucks sake!!

He’s more than likely to end up some twisted, perverted sex monster than an OCD!!

We don’t give a damn about what he does in his own time, but keep the hell away from here. I will repeat so you are in NO doubt about what I mean….

GO AWAY!!!

Party poooper?

So I survived a birthday slumber party with several eight and nine year old little girls over this past weekend. Let me just say first off, I quit smoking in January and have rarely craved a shmoke. I dearly wanted one at 6AM this morning as they woke me up screaming and running through the house.

I knew that the girls would be in and out, in and out all day/night long so I didn’t make the house spotless before they came over. Yeah, it was clean. But, it coulda been cleaner, and I wasn’t too afraid knowing that my floors weren’t mopped, and the child’s room wasn’t spotless, and so on. I knew that once they left, I’d have the opportunity to fix and clean everything.

And I didn’t set any rules. No, I didn’t want to throw a bunch of rules at the girls, and expect them to actually listen. I didn’t want to sound like an old, biddy so I let them do what they wanted. Oh my freaking gosh . . . a mad house, I was in a freaking mad house.

I was literally going, OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG .. ! Oh – My – FREAKING – Gosh! Look at my floor! Look at my couch! Look at my kitchen! Oh my poor poor kitchen!!! Don’t worry cabinets, they won’t slam you shut much longer. No, they’re parents will pick them up soon. Oh, ‘fridgerator, don’t cry. The spilled milk on your shelves can be cleaned up. Oh there, there .. let me get it!

I cringed. And I cussed under my breath. I held my breath. I looked away, and covered my eyes. I peeked through my fingers and saw them pillow fighting with my couch cushions, and I was like ohhhh myyyy freeeeaking goshhhh!!

I finally got them all to settle down and eat some breakfast. Cake and ice cream for breakfast, all around! I sugared them up and sent their little butts home. And then I got to cleaning! And I cleaned. And I smiled. And I loved every minute of it.

Call Me Count Chocula

I LOVE to count.

I count stairs, steps I take, cars, just about anything I can count.

It started when I was very young.  I used to count cars on long trips.  Then it was red cars, then blue cars, then white cars, so on and so forth. 

I remember being in church and counting hats. Then blue hats, then black hats, you get the idea.

It’s so bad, that when there is a funeral procession I have to look away and count to 10 before I look back so my car count won’t be correct. (it’s bad luck to count cars in a funeral procession in case you didn’t know.)

I always figured I was normal.  Of course, I realize i’m far from normal.  What is “normal” anyway?  Is there such a thing?  Normal is boring.  I’m far from boring!  I like the sound of that better.

The greatest thing about wordpress is that it counts your words for you.  Thank God cuz I don’t have time to count them all right now. 

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Online banking

A few years ago, my bank account was totally wiped out. I don’t know who did it. I don’t know why. All I know is that I went to the ATM one morning, and I was 500 bones in the red. The bastid had taken all of my money, plus some. I don’t have much to begin with, so when someone stole my money, I was completely heartbroken. I was devistated. I was angry. I was scared.

After many phone calls, trips to my local bank, and waiting patiently for two weeks, my money was back in my account. I was relieved, somewhat.

That was a few years ago. To this day, I still check my online banking at least ten times a day. TEN times. A day. Sometimes more, if it’s been stressful. I have to check it. I have to make sure that nobody is trying to take my money. I have to make sure that if something changes, I know then and there what it is, why it changed, and how much money is left. I never want to be in the situation I was in ever again.

:: :: :: Red :: :: ::

Could care less #6

Something I could give two shits about:

My CDs or DVDs don’t have to be in any sort of order, they just have to be present. I don’t put them in alphabetical order, or by genre, or by the year the singer OD’d. They’re just there, in their shelf, waiting to be listened to/watched.

:: :: :: Red :: :: ::

I need a life

Actual conversation with my mother today.

Mom: So what kind of fun and excitement did you get into last night? [Saturday night]

Me: Oh, not much. I cleaned and polished my washer and dryer.

Mom: Really.

Me: Yup. And the facing of the dishwasher.

Mom: Oooh, exciting.

Me: Yup. I know it. I’m gangsta to the core.

Mom: You need a life.

Me: *Makes a face behind her back*

She, BTW, went on a date and spent four and a half hours at the Burger King, sipping sodas. And I’m the one that needs a life.

:: :: :: Red :: :: ::

Computer whizzzz

My computer. It is mine. The husband and child might use it occasionally, but it is mine. And I keep it the way I want it to be kept. I organize it the way I want it to be. I purge what I want gone. I keep what I want to keep. The files are kept cleaned out, defragggged, organized just right, and anything I see that doesn’t belong gets tossed out. On a regular basis.

I don’t keep emails in the inboxes. They don’t belong there. If they’re keepers, they’ll get filed along with the others. Or they’re just deleted.

Pictures and music files are not to be kept on the computer – They take up space. That’s what they make flash drives for. I don’t want the memory used up on my computer.

Even the desktop is organized and clean of clutter. I have six icons on the desktop. No more, no less. Only six because those are used the most often, their homes are on the desktop.

Noone is allowed to change anything on my computer. Not the colors, not the font size, not the volume, nothing. I don’t even want the monitor moved. It is mine. It’s how I want it to be. It shall stay that way.

Got it? Good. Carry on.

:: :: :: Red :: :: ::

Totally anal

It’s official. My self-diagnosed OCD is an actual affliction!  And I wish that was MY ass.  I could kill that chick for her ass.  It bothers me a little that her ass is kind of not completely covered though.  And they can forget about me disorganizing my alphabetized CD collection.  That’s NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN. 

You Are Totally Anal Retentive

Yup, you’re so uptight – people definitely have called you “anal.” You’re the type of person who’s so OCD you organize your M&Ms before eating them. You have so many rules and rituals, it’s hard for you to let loose and enjoy life. So go ahead and mix up your alphabetized CD collection. Live a little!

Are You Anal Retentive?

Posted by observant