Step 1: Congratulations! Here begins your meteoric rise to culinary greatness. Start by selecting a recipe. I suggest something that will require at least an hour and a half to two hours to prepare. Take a second to get pumped up, and imagine how much better your life will be after you’ve prepared this meal.
Step 2: Make an elaborate show of announcing the mind-blowing meal you plan to prepare.
Step 3: Use the enormous sense of self-satisfaction you’re feeling to propel your body to the grocery store, where you will acquire the fixings for your fancy supper. Parade down the store’s aisles like the smug, sanctimonious sonofagun you’ve earned the right to be.
Step 4: Prepare the meal according to instruction. Make sure to time the preparation perfectly, so that you are just adding finishing touches when your spouse or partner arrives home. Use boisterous, Emeril-like gestures while chopping and stirring. Too much pride is never a bad thing.
Step 5: You’ve been cooking for two hours now, and even though you’re quite tired, you feel a swelling of pride in your chest as your meal is nearly ready. This Martha Stewart-esque risotto is going to be EFFEN beautiful. For a brief moment, you imagine the look of elation on your boyfriend’s face as he takes the first bite. “He’s going to spontaneously propose tonight because this meal is THAT good,” you think.
Add the final ingredient–a requisite 1/2 cup of Parmesan cheese–with a flourish. You’ve been stirring this risotto for nearly an hour. Your arms are weak, but your edible victory is close. As you sprinkle in the last few bits of cheese, realize that you’ve been slowly contaminating your meal with molded Parmesan. The cheese is blue and green, and dead all over. And now so is your risotto. Check the expiration date. The cheese has not passed its “sell by” date. The only plausible explanation: This mold is some kind of hell-born monster sent to destroy your will to live.
Step 6: Begin your crying jag by throwing something across the room. I chose a spoon, but your kitchen is filled with objects sized and weighted just right for flinging, like salt and pepper shakers, and ripening fruit. By all means, get creative with your selection.
Step 7: After nearly 30 minutes of hard sobbing, you’re famished. Realize that you still have to eat something for dinner, and rummage through your kitchen for food. Find alcohol. Drink it.
Step 8: Enjoy a small pity party on your kitchen floor. Invite your new buddy, booze, because now that you’re a failure at life, booze is all you have left. DO NOT invite your guy, because he can’t understand your special brand of crazy. Also due to your persistent claims that he would dine on a giant bowl of heaven, he’s starving, and you can’t afford to be bogged down with other people’s needs right now.
Step 9: I can’t really remember what happens during this step.
Step 10: Decide you’re going to need some food in your stomach to help your body fight off alcohol’s warring advances. Pour cereal and milk into a bowl, adding dashes of disgust and self loathing and just a pinch of tears.