I just made something in the kitchen. O.o And it was actually edible.
Flee! Hide! The horrors! The horrors!
I used a cup of milk, four eggs, two dabbles of vanilla, eight pieces of bread, some butter, a fork, a spatula and a cast iron frying pan (epicness) and made successful French Toast. I would assume it was successful. Bob ate four pieces and he hardly ever eats that much. Although, he did say I should make pancakes, but no, that's his kitchen thingy.
Me plus kitchen usually ends up with bad stuff happening. Like, really bad stuff. Burning and smoking and turning black and gooing and etc. etc. etc. Although, thankfully, I have never burnt water. Mom has. I haven't. -snicker- I could probably burn salad, if I attempted anything more elaborate than some lettuce and carrots.
Oh, carrots. What a wonderful, hideous vegetable.
Food is a special thing. I like eating it, but I really don't like cooking it. I guess I can could, if I have too. And I make pretty good chips and cheese =P but I just don't like cooking. I don't understand it. The chemicals and flavors of ingredients and how they react with each other. WHy do these spices work and those spices don't? Why can't everything be plain and simple? Siiigh. Cooking annoys me.