Cooking
My apron says, “Kiss the Cook.” It indicates that I, the wearer, should be kissed to thank me for my cooking efforts. It doesn’t matter that I’ve burnt the potatoes Julienne. The point is I’m cooking and you, the diner, should kiss me.
How brilliant! I’d like to find the gentleman who invented the witty apron and kiss him. I’d like to knit him an apron that says, “Kiss the Witty-Apron Creator.” Because, you see, I’ve taken to wearing my oh-so-comfortable apron all day—when I’m shopping for groceries, toiletries, or yarn; when I’m getting my hair done at the beauty parlor; when I’m out walking the cats. And complete strangers often run up to me, place a hand in the small of my back, tip me backwards, and smooch me! I feel like a movie star! Oh dear me! Lordy!
I tell you, this apron is like mistletoe wrapped around my waist! Oh heavens!
Lately, I’ve been forgoing all other clothes except my apron. It’s so comfortable and breezy! And it smells delightful because I’ve spilled some dill on it while cooking soup a few days ago. Everywhere I go, distinguished gentlemen will perk up at the scent of dill. It sure whets the appetite! It’s so funny to see the aroma tickle their noses… They’ll take off their hats, loosen the collars of their shirts, their eyes will search for the source of the intoxicating scent … and then they see little ol’ me, Mabel, and they just don’t know what to do!
Yes, you can kiss this cook anytime. Grrrrr!
Now what I’d really like is an apron that says, “This Cook Likes It in the Behind.” I’ve searched all over and simply cannot find one. I’m quite skilled at embroidery, but that’s just not the type of garment one makes for oneself. It really is something to give or get as a gift.
So, my birthday’s coming up … Oh dear me! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have … well, since I have … I’d simply die for a “Fist the Cook” apron, if they even make such a thing! Oh! My casserole is burning! I’ve got to run — remember, “Rimjob the Cook!” Thanks!
