It's a Saturday night, and I have no social life to speak of.  Teeny has a friend sleeping over, and the Redhead is watching a Cops marathon on TV downstairs.  I've just completed an exam and a mountain of laundry.  I feel like writing, but I don't even want to think about politics!  I'm so sick and tired of seeing Obama's smarmy, self-aggrandizing pseudo-sympathy for the little working man in television ads, I literally want to hurl every time I turn on the television!

I haven't seen any McCain ads lately - not around here, anyway.  I haven't heard the creaky, screechy, borderline whiny "I deserve to be president, because I've been in Washington longer than many of you have been alive, and if you don't vote for me, you're not a patriot" shrieks coming from my idiot box.  Otherwise, I'd be pissed off about that as well.

Just talked to Frank.  He's teaching me a lot about cooking - yes even on the phone.  I was so inept a few years ago, I could barely boil water.  I graduated to being able to stir fry almost anything when the Redhead became able to discern foods he likes from foods he doesn't like.  I gradually became fond of making dinner for both kids.  I like it when they enjoy what I make, and we have fun sitting around discussing our days at dinner.  It's become a family tradition.  Since I'm basically a kitchen-challenged retard, Frank is an invaluable resource.  Questions such as, "How does this sound for a marinade?" and "How long should I keep these chicken breasts in the oven?" are becoming commonplace during our phone calls.

Last night, while discussing our love for various vegetables, we got onto the subject of asparagus.  We both adore asparagus.  He made some incredible asparagus last weekend with lemony butter sauce that was absolutely to DIE for!  Our views on canned vegetables are similar as well.  I think most canned vegetables taste like hyena spit.  I can tolerate some canned mushrooms, if I use them in a stir fry.  If I don't do fresh, I'll do frozen.  Frank thinks canned asparagus is the vilest, foulest invention of Satan.  "Canned asparagus makes the baby Jesus cry," he asserted to me on the phone last night.  I very nearly spit the iced tea I was drinking.

Not sure why I found this so funny, but I giggled at the assertion for a good five minutes.  Canned asparagus is, in fact, evil.  It's mushy and foul, and the taste is indescribably offensive.  But fouler than that?  Canned okra.  Okra is bad enough in and of itself.  I discovered it once during my curious stage, when I decided to try every vegetable to see which ones I liked.  Okra... well... its consistency is that of phlegm-covered gummy worms.  There's something seriously wrong with okra.  But canned okra... that's a special kind of noxious.

There you have it.  Canned okra makes the baby Jesus cry.