SydB_JenG said:
LMAO!!! I love it!! You crack me up! Got anymore? lol
yes! here is bridget actually trying to make dinner for her birthday dinner party... :lol: (there's a bit of strong language, but i'll censor those.
)
Schedule:
6:30. Go to shop.
6:45. Return with forgotten groceries.
6:45-7. Assemble sheperd's pie and place in oven (oh God, hope will all fit).
7-7:05. Prepare Grand Marnier souffles. (Actually think will have a little taste of Grand Marnier now. It is my birthday, after all.)
7:05-7:10. Mmm. Grand Marnier delicious. Check plates and cutlery for telltale signs of sluttish washing-up and arrange in attractive fan shape. Ah, must buy napkins also (or is it serviettes? Can never remember which one is common).
7:10-7:20. Tidy up and move furniture to sides of room.
7:20-7:30. Make frisse lardon frizzled chorizo thing.
All of which leaves a clear half-hour to get ready so no need to panic. Must have a [cigarette]. Aargh. It's quarter to seven. How did that happen? Aargh.
7:15 p.m. Just got back from shop and realize have forgotten butter.
7:35 p.m. Sh--, sh--, sh--. The sheperd's pie is still in pans all over the kitchen floor and have not yet washed hair.
7:40 p.m. Oh my God. Just looked for milk and realized have left the carrier bag behind in the shop. Also had the eggs in it. That means...Oh God, and the olive oil...so cannot do frizzy salad thing.
7:40 p.m. Hmm. Best plan, surely, is to get into the bath with a glass of champagne then get ready. At least if I look nice I can carry on cooking when everyone is here and maybe can get Tom to go out for the missing ingredients.
7:55 p.m. Aargh. Doorbell. Am in bra and panties with wet hair. Pie is all over floor. Suddenly hate the guests. Have had to slave for two days, and now they will all swarm in, demanding food like cuckoos. Feel like opening door and shouting, "Oh go
f--- yourselves."