Working out.

While lifting a 3.5 pound slab of meat into a crock pot this morning, I pulled a muscle in my shoulder. I wish I was kidding.

2009: The year I was defeated by a beef product.

Rhubarb.

On a scale of one to ten, with one being the worst thing since David Bowie rocking spandex in The Labyrinth and ten being the greatest thing since the Sue Simmons' "What the eff are you doing?" video, where would you put rhubarb? Prior to breakfast this morning, I would have put it at around 9. But post breakfast, rhubarb has plunged into its own little economic crisis, as far as Mary Ann is concerned. I now give rhubarb a 2.

Come on rhubarb. Stop messing with me and follow the path of the orange - consistently deliver tastiness.

Truf - Peanut butter on green apples is the best snack...EVER.

Don't try substituting red apples...unless you want a snack that, at its best, would be described as "crapple".

Also, the picture I've included does not do this snack justice. It was either this photo or a picture of someone's cat named Peanut Butter. Hey, even Google Image Search has its low points.

Cheese gratin' irony.

I'm not much of a cook, but suddenly I've decided to take the plunge and become one. On Monday, I found a recipe for mac and cheese on the Food Network's web site, and psyched myself up enough to actually go to the store and buy the needed ingredients.

Bitches, I actually GRATED the cheese myself - none of this pre-grated, cheese in a bag bullshit you can buy at the grocery store. And did I make a sauce that required spices? You better believe your paprika and bay leaf I did. And can you believe that I have come down with a damn cold and was only able to taste the first couple of bites due to a stuffed up nose? Well, you better effing believe it. All that effort and only 2.5 seconds of taste. Sonofabitch.

HOWEVER, I think I'll have another chance to taste the outcome of my labor. I was sort of eyeballing the measurements as the recipe was in American ounces and the tools I was working with measured in British metric. In the end, I made enough mac and cheese to last me for at least a week and half, both lunch and dinner.

My next goal? Chili. I've discovered that my roommate has a giant pot that is just perfect for making some sort of beef and bean concoction. ( :: insert fart jokes here :: ).

McDonald's Corporation, please forgive me.

As I now see myself in the middle of housing/financial crisis, I must issue an apology to the McDonald's Corporation. I realize this blog is a piss poor apology, so I will craft a suitable letter to mail (and I will also post it here). To sum it up, you might not have a place to live, you might be contemplating kayaking across half the globe, but you can always count on McDonald's to offer up cheap food. It might kill me in the long run, but nothing says "feel better lil' Mary" like McDonald's french fries and soft serve ice cream cone. Bring on the elastic waist pants!

You should ALWAYS carry a stick of butter in your purse/man bag.

I believe that a common trait these days amongst women my age is the inability to cook. Maybe it's a New York thing where one of the side effects of living in this city means small kitchens with no counter space and having an oven that may have been brought over on one of the first Dutch ships to land in New York. Ignoring the fact that I have no ability to make food outside of microwaving, boiling or toasting, I do enjoy watching Paula Deen's show on the Food Network. I can appreciate an overweight, recovering Southern agoraphobe - so sue me.

My favorite part about the show is not the recipe, but the fact that the Food Network gave a television program to a completely bat shit crazy woman. Why is she bat shit crazy you may ask? Well, here are my two reasons for this conclusion:

1. She talks to her dog and I sincerely believe she hears the dog talking back.

2. The woman ingests at least 4 full sticks of butter EVERY DAY.

Now don't get me wrong. The Paulinator (that's my loving nickname for her) is probably the best thing that has every been broadcast on extended cable. For one, she somehow been granted a free pass to say/do whatever the hell she feels like. Whenever a male guest is on her show, the Paulinator stops just short of slathering his male parts in toffee syrup and having a go. AND PEOPLE EAT THIS UP! I say if you can blatantly sexually harass someone and people applaud you for it, kudos to you.

As mentioned, one of the Paulinator's best qualities is her relationship with Bo Deen, her beloved pet dog. Here is a typical interaction between the Paulinator and Bo Deen (and please read the Paulinator's lines at about seven decibels louder than you normally would talk):

Paulinator: "What's that Bo Deen? You think we need some more whipped cream?"
Bo Deen: (Silence)
Paulinator: "Oh Bo Deen! You're so bad! But why not?! A little whipped cream ain't gonna hurt!"
Bo Deen: (Silence)
Paulinator: "Bo Deen, you're gonna make your momma fat!"
Bo Deen: (Licks himself, more silence)

I have a theory that if Bo Deen was a stick of butter, the Paulinator, despite her deep affection for the pet, would have eaten him about six years ago. Butter is Paula's kryptonite. Every recipe calls for double the normal amount of butter an average human being should/physically can consume. Eating a ham sandwich? Add a stick of butter! What's that? Just a plain salad? Hell no! Add a stick of butter! And why you're at it, mash up some butter in your infant's baby food - need to get them eatin' that butter. I think Paula's love for butter needs no more of an explanation than this: her recipe for deep fried butter balls. Yeah, you heard me. Take the fattiest thing ever created and make it even fattier. Why have a heart attack when you can actually make your heart explode? Here is the recipe:

2 sticks butter
2 ounces cream cheese
Salt and pepper
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 egg, beaten
1 cup seasoned bread crumbs
Peanut oil, for frying

Cream the butter, cream cheese, salt and pepper together with an electric mixer until smooth. Using a very small ice cream scoop, or melon baller, form 1-inch balls of butter mixture and arrange them on a parchment or waxed paper lined sheet pan. Freeze until solid. Coat the frozen balls in flour, egg, and then bread crumbs and freeze again until solid.

When ready to fry, preheat oil in a deep-fryer to 350 degrees F.

But, without a doubt, my favorite thing about the Paulinator is this: at her restaurant, every meal comes with her signature garlic cheese biscuit and one of her famous hoecakes. Now I ask - what is a hoecake? I can easily find the answer on Wikipedia, but I think the definition that is slowly forming in my own head is probably much better. Perhaps my Paulinator is slowly trying to kill me. Disguised by her down-home southern drawl and her jolly demeanor, perhaps, and for lack of a better word, she is attempting to butter me up only to deep fry me one day and have me as a special dish at her world famous buffet? The fact that I'm not at all frightened and just a tad bit excited that I could be served next to her award winning maccaroni and cheese says alot.