Cookies: An Interior Monologue

March 11, 2005 1:04 AM

"There. Forty-eight chocolate-chip cookies, all ready for Chocolate Friday"

"Forty-six. You ate two."

"They were only small ones. Quality control."

"Isn't forty-eight a lot of cookies?"

"Well, yes, but I'm hoping that I can make up in volume for my total lack of effort."

"Ah, you mean the total lack of effort inherent in wandering around Coles looking for the ingredients to the recipe Adrian so kindly looked up for you, and then giving up and going straight to the packet-mix aisle."

"Erm.. yes. That would be it."

"Don't you feel mildly guilty about that? Every other chocolate Friday, they've at least cooked something from raw ingredients."

"Well, you have to put these things into context. This is the first time in two years of being in this apartment that my oven has been used to do anything more complicated than reheat pizza. The only other time I've cooked anything in the last year was after my girlfriend issued me an ultimatum."

"Ah yes. The infamous Thai Green Curry incident. The less said about that the better."

"It was a great curry! The fact she didn't speak to me for a whole day after eating it was totally irrelevant."

"Yes, that was probably more to do with having told her to fuck off out of the kitchen."

"Anyway. I did make them myself, sort of. I mixed ingredients and put them in the oven. The fact that one of the ingredients was 'cookie mix' is irrelevent. They're nice cookies."

"Except for the way half the chocolate chips seem to have vanished during baking through some bizarre process of reverse osmosis."

"And they come in two batches, one crispy and one softer, so people get a choice!"

"I believe the terms are over- and under-cooked."

"Git. I bet you eat them anyway."

"Damn right."

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