well the nyquil was to put myself to sleep and the 3 benadryl were cuz my nose looked swollen

At first I was like SUMMERTIME!

but then I was like threefreakingclassesandnobodyisaroundtoplaywithandIhavetomakemyselfdinnereverynightstillandihatethisstupidsummerschoolthingy

Dinner. It's my least favorite thing ever.  Because no matter what, I have to make myself either get up and go find food, or I have to actually make myself food and heavens why was the love for cooking not  put in my genetic code whilst being created in my mother's womb?  I hate it.  I hate trying to figure out if I can put feta cheese in my garlic rice-a-roni (I can't, it's so bad please don't try it you'll totally throw up because I almost did and I have a stomach of steel just kidding) It's really terrible.

And then I get my nightly or mostly nightly call, from my sister-in-law and we discuss life and the awesomeness of Amy Poehler... and she's like "Oh yah just making homemade hamburgers and french fries for dinner" and I want to be with her even more than I already do.  Because she's got that I Love Cooking gene.  So I could help out with dinner, I'm a great helper.  I should just be one of Santa's elfs because I love helping.  BUT I HATE MAKING MY OWN FOOD.

So on a daily basis we end up with a plain spinach salad dosed in dressing for breakfast, popcorn for lunch and probably chips and salsa for dinner.  Even then I stare at the fridge with complete repulsion.  I don't like what you have inside of you fridge.  I wish you had a fully prepared thai meal sitting in there.  But you don't, you have spinach and apples and salad dressing.  And for that reason I hate you.

Me, in a chef's outfit