A few months ago, I stopped working at my job. Not because I quit, but because they failed to book me hours. What was their motive? Their reason for stripping away the companies best dressed male employee? Beats me.
Last I heard, they hired some white boy/ ex-life-guard who, most likely, won’t give a damn about these middle class fobs, beaners, and niggas, who shop at that mall. He’s probably some prick who’s gonna blow smoke up the asses of these fine citizens, whilst texting “hot babes”. Don’t cha just hate that?
However, something amazing has spawned from this shitty situation: I’ve learned how to cook. No, I’m not some CIA (Culinary Institute of America) graduate, and I won’t be flambeing anything, anytime soon – but I think I got the hang of this cooking thing. Apparently, I’m a fish kinda guy. I love the taste, texture, and the simplistic nature of cooking the fish – and it’s cheaper too (sometimes).
You see, I’ve always wanted to learn how to cook. Although I’ve attempted to cook many…many times, I would fail miserably. With testosterone driven blood cells coursing through my veins, I would stand against the fires, and whip up something with my honest, rather soft hands. And to my surprise, it would taste like shit. Basically, I just cooked scrambled eggs and I “experimented” with various condiments. Today’s special: Mustard covered eggs with chopped peperoni! YUMMY!….
But now, my culinary boner is …. HUGE! Due to my interest in cooking, our family Dinner night – where we would go to a new restaurant, every Tuesday – transformed into “Ranier cooks something” night. Whether it’s Dover sole with a butter basil caper sauce, or Pasta sauce made from scratch, my confidence was getting up; which is to say, I was swinging that boner around the kitchen like it was nobody’s business.
Although I started cooking because of my lack of money, I also wanted to start for more important reasons: dating. Sure, at this stage in my life, a proficiency in cooking isn’t on the checklist of many girls my age. If anything, girls my age are more concerned with your knowledge of restaurants, and your ability to take them places – which I am already experienced at.
But I mean shit, I’m looming towards my twenties and beyond. By that time, knowing how to cook is mandatory. Not even for money purposes, but for dating. How are you going to win the hearts of beautiful Women, if you’re still taking her place to place? What are you gonna do after? Have sex in the restaurant cellar, on a bag of potatoes? No! You gotta take that shit home, homie!
Besides, with the increase of Women turning feminist (which I am myself) Women almost refuse to cook. It’s almost as if they’re trying to escape that deadly gender stereotype – and I congratulate them. But that just means us hairy backs need to step it up! Right now, Women put men in two categories: Men vs Boys. But in the future, it will be: Men who can cook vs Men who still buy frozen pizzas.
Okay, I think I’m done ranting. Originally, this blog was supposed to be about me cooking an Italian Quesadilla for my dinner earlier this evening. Instead, it transformed into this weird, constantly off topic, anti-white “BLOGettin” that quite frankly, was very therapeutic to write. But yea, bottom line: Guys, learn how to cook. Why? Simple: You don’t wanna end up in a cellar, having sex on a sack of potatoes.