I think it’s time to address the seven thousand emails I have received about my lack of pots and pans.Apparently many of my readers believe that this pot situation is a very big deal, and I think it’s time for me to publicly acknowledge those readers’ feelings. I hear you, friends. I understand that you are shocked and upset and worried about my children and husband. I know this because you are sending me recipes and coupons, begging me to buy pans and pots, even offering to buy them for me. You promise me in your emails that it would make my family feel good if I cooked for them, how it’s no big deal, how everybody does it.You are so very concerned, so very kind. But please understand this…
I can see right through you, people.
Let me guess, the next thing you’ll suggest is that these pots you love so much are non-habit forming, right?That I can just try them once, and then put them down…no big deal.Well, friends, we have a saying in Virginia… fool me once, shame on you… fool me twice, and shame on me and I won’t be fooled again. In Virginia.About pots. Or something.
Because I suspect, you POT PUSHERS, that if I try one of your beloved pots just this once, people around here will expect me to use them again and again and before I know it, I’ll be an apron wearing, food network watching, recipe swapping, Rachel Ray worshipping POTHEAD just like the rest of you.
Ever heard the saying “Misery Loves Company?” Uh-huh. I have.
I choose to say NO, THANK YOU. I am above the influence. Take your dirty pots and hit up the next lady. (If in fact, there are any other ladies who don’t own pots.)
Remember that commercial from the eighties… “This is your brain. This is your brain on drugs?” Well, folks, the image above is from that commercial. That is your brain. On drugs. IN A PAN. Coincidence? Oh, I think not.
So ladies…you go ahead and choose this day how and what you will serve.
But as for me and my family, we will serve PIZZA.