Cake and Candles

There's something you should know about me —  I'm not a big believer in birthdays.  In fact, if I had my way, we wouldn't celebrate them.  I just think people take them out of proportion.

Yes, it's cool, it was the day that you were born, but no one really did anything to deserve the massive celebration that takes place, they were just simply born.  If anyone should be celebrating, it's your mom, because she went through a lot more on that day than you did.

To me, birthdays just seem like an excuse for people to think the world revolves around them.

Now I'm not saying everyone does this.  That's definitely not the case.  All I'm saying is that certain people seem to get this overwhelming sense of superiority when the time of their birth comes around.

They think they deserve everything.  They think that on this day, or week even, that they should be treated like royalty.

From Pixabay

And for what?  They did nothing to deserve this celebration.  It's not like it's the anniversary of some amazing feat they performed, it's simply the anniversary of the day that the circle of life came around and they were born.

Yes, I think on your birthday you should eat a piece of cake and and wear your favorite shirt, but besides that, the celebrations that company every birthday across the world seems ridiculous.  You don't need to have a party, or receive presents from all of your friends.

But of course, that's what happens, because that's what people want.  You buy presents for your friend on their birthday in hopes you'll get one in return, right?

The thing is, it's not that I don't believe in birthdays, it's that I don't believe in the narcissistic mind sets everyones in when its their birthday.

My opinion on birthdays doesn't really affect my life though.  I still buy presents, and people still buy me presents, but I do wish that things would change.  I wish that birthdays meant more to society than getting older and taking a day off your diet.

But birthdays mean a lot more than that, don't they?  When you turn sixteen, you can drive.  When you turn eighteen, you're an adult.  When you turn twenty-one you can drink.  There's a lot of birthdays that determine things in your life and are more meaningful than just a simple day.

So I guess thats it.  My mixed opinions on birthdays and everything that comes with them.

But don't take my word for it.  It's your birthday —  do with it what you want.

Elise :)

Gobble, Gobble

So this past Thursday was Thanksgiving and let me tell you I ate much more than I should have.  But that's ok, because Thanksgiving is America's excuse for total obesity so no one could judge me.

I love Thanksgiving — it's my favorite holiday.  I mean what's not to love about a holiday that revolves completely around food?

Courtesy of: Memes Vault

This Thanksgiving though, things were a little different.

My family usually cooks our own dinner, (and as you know from my last post about the chicken gone wrong then you can assume how well that works out for us), but this year we let my grandparents do the cooking, and we went to their house.

I wasn't all that excited to go to their house, because I had to put pants on, and we always seem to leave their house hungry because they're portion sizes are not the same as ours, but never the less it was Thanksgiving and I was ready to feast.

Dinner was ready and I was helping set the table when I got the worst news of my life.

Sue, my step-grandma (name has been changed to maintain some anonymity) said to me, "We don't have any stuffing because I'm trying to stay off the heavy carbs."

I smiled and nodded of course because I couldn't just burst into tears, but I was way upset.  I mean, stuffing rocks and we weren't going to have it.

I understand Sue wanting to be healthy, but it was Thanksgiving!  It is the day where all health is thrown out the door and your soul focus is on butter.  But alas, Sue wanted to keep the healthy going and stuffing was not a part of my Thanksgiving dinner.

I got over it once I was elbow deep in gravy, and Thanksgiving ended up being great times.  I had four pieces of pie (which I do not recommend), and the rest of the food was awesome.

I ended up lying on the couch groaning in pain from eating so much, and I couldn't have asked for a better Thanksgiving.

So in honor of our favorite holiday, here is an article about how it went for our favorite family.

So enjoy this disturbing Thanksgiving meme, 

Courtesy of: Wide Open Spaces

and have a happy rest of the holiday season.

Eat some stuffing in my honor and work on burning off that butterball.
Elise :)

The Chicken Disaster

This past Sunday, my mom decided to make a chicken.

You know, a whole chicken slow roasted in the oven with potatoes and carrots and stuff.

I was really excited for said chicken, I mean, gotta love poultry, and also because the only time we ever eat large birds is at Thanksgiving, and sometimes not even then, so I was pumped to nosh on some bird.

Well, the thing is our oven isn't the best.  I don't know if it's old or what, but it's absolute trash and can't cook anything right.

She put the chicken in the oven at 6:00, and anticipated it to be done in a couple hours.

So there we were, my mom, my dad, and I, sitting in the kitchen taking the chicken out of the oven at 9:30 on Sunday night.  I usually go to bed way earlier than this, but I stayed up waiting for that darn chicken to cook.

We pulled out and from the outside, it looked perfectly fine.  It appeared to be fully cooked and we were happy that something finally cooked right in our oven.

Funny thing is that the chicken was far from cooked.  We cut into it and the inside was practically raw.

It was bad.  I got really salty, my mom lost hope, and my dad started cutting it up and microwaving it piece by piece (which we have done with Thanksgiving turkeys in the past).

I was really upset because I just wanted to stuff my face with chicken and go to bed, but I couldn't do that if the chicken wasn't cooked.

It's kind of like the morning of Thanksgiving when you're all like:

Courtesy of: Pinterest

And then dinner time comes around and half the food isn't cooked and the rolls are burnt and you're just like: 

Courtesy of: QuickMeme

Anyway, it was disappointing and I was sad so I ate some leftover spaghetti noodles with Costco pesto and went to bed.

I don't really remembered all the things that happened that night, but I'm pretty sure we ended up leaving the oven on all night while we were sleeping, because the next day hat chicken was cooked.  I mean if that chicken wasn't dead before, spending eighteen hours in the oven should make it way dead.

When we ate though (on Monday night), it was good and fully-cooked and I really enjoyed it.

And no worries — we're going to my grandparents house for Thanksgiving so there won't be two uncooked poultry incidents within the same month.

So thanks for reading and give your turkey-cooking moms/dads/legal guardians a big hug for cooking those turkeys, because as we've learned, it's not so easily accomplished.

Bye for now.
Elise :)