Wassuppers?! Sundays are generally boring as fuck to me so I decided to take advantage of my free trial of the WWE Network and watch Wrestlemania. Of course, because I was looking forward to something it was only the most opportune time for life to annoy the fuck out of me. About a week ago, I told Val that I was going to be watching it and she asked if she could come over. She wanted to spend some “cuddle” time with me so I said sure. Val said she’d bring wrestling snacks, whatever that is. Um okay.

Fast forward to Sunday. About a half hour before Wrestlemania was scheduled to begin my mom asks if I can drive her to get something to eat. Mind you the pre-show was on and some matches were scheduled for that too. All day she could’ve asked me to take her but she decides to wait until almost the last minute. Seriously?! Just because I don’t post a schedule of my plans doesn’t mean I don’t have plans. Hell, sometimes my plan is to do absolutely nothing and going outside or taking you somewhere is annoying, inconvenient, and just fucks up my plans.

I take her to the place she wanted to go to and I can tell life wasn’t done pissing in my cereal yet. The parking lot entrance to the restaurant is kind of a tight fit normally if you’re paying attention. Please tell me why some lady was blocking traffic talking on her cellphone oblivious the the four cars behind her trying to exit and myself and the two vehicle behind me trying to enter. I managed to get in the driveway without hitting dumbass or any parked vehicles while my mom acts like I’m a brand new driver and tells me I don’t have enough room to maneuver. I got this woman! I know what I’m doing. She goes in and all I’m thinking is come on already! Wrestlemania is going to start in less than 15 minutes and Val is on her way.

My mom comes out and I’m thinking no sweat. I can make it home in time without missing a beat. There’s a three way stop I have to go through to get the exit of the complex. Allow me to take a moment to say that Raleigh drivers are some of the dumbest, non-driving motherfuckers I’ve ever had to suffer. I finally get to the exit that will allow me onto the main thoroughfare. I have to cross three lanes of traffic to get into the left lane so that I can make a U-turn. Why is some asshole just stopped in the left lane playing with his balls? Okay, I don’t think he was actually playing with his balls but he was on the phone, zoned out, or something. Several cars in front of me get in front of him and there’s room for at least two more cars. Why did this fool decided to wake up when it was my turn?! Fuck, I hate people! I can’t wait until cars come with death rays and force fields. I’ll be zapping motherfuckers left and right. Because of oblivious ass finally waking up I had to go out of my way for the next area I could make a U-turn at.

I didn’t think Sunday drivers still existed on actual Sundays because I usually see them on Mondays but they do! They all want to gaze at me through their rear view mirrors because try as I might I just couldn’t avoid the fuckers! *deep, long sigh* If people only knew how often and in how many ways I visualize killing them I’d be in trouble. This asshole was apparently going to same place I was but he wasn’t in a hurry. I was. Move it gramps! If this old ass man drove any slower we’d be going back in time. I will not miss one iota of Wrestlemania, do you hear me?! Finally Rip Van Winkle turned left and I turned right. Within a minute I was in front of my place. Took my food, went upstairs and I had a couple of minutes to spare. That was one of the dryest burgers I’ve ever had and North Carolinians are still waging a war against crisp french fries. I see why the South lost the civil war ol’ limp french fry cooking motherfuckers!

Val texts me the following: “1. Don’t ask questions. 2. Turn your oven on the highest setting that is not broil. Place rack on lowest lever. 3. Find sugar and Red Robing seasoning. 4. On my way.” All I wanted to do was chill and Watch Wrestlemania 33, the ultimate thrill ride, eat some snacks, and fuck when it’s over. I had to run errands earlier and now I have chores?! C’mon! This ain’t life! Now I have to go downstairs and fuck with Old Smokey. That’s what I call that oven because no matter what you do it sets off the smoke detector. It’s annoying as fuck and I didn’t plan for that. The oven is crap but it’s not bad enough for management to replace so I’m stuck with it for now. Wrestlemania is playing on PS4 upstairs and I’m downstairs trying to proactively stop the smoke detector. *sigh* I go back upstairs and watch the first match.

Val got here, eventually and she came bearing gifts. So I’m looking at her and she’s looking at me all the time I’m wondering what’s going on? It’s like she expected to me know and I’m waiting for her to explain. Remember, she told me not to ask questions so I’m expecting and waiting for answers. She chopped up some potatoes into fries, made me a Detroit style pizza (just had to bake it), brought me some blood orange juice, and a watch. Good intentions and all that. What went wrong Freaky? I’m glad you asked and I’ll tell you. Val brought the fresh squeezed blood orange juice for me to use with my carbonation machine. Unfortunately, the amount wasn’t really enough to warrant use with the machine. The “carbonator” has a capacity of 1.2 liters and the juice was about a cup worth. My deep fryer is out of oil. I told her about that previous to Sunday. One day I will invest in an air fryer. That means the fries needed to be baked in the oven after the pizza. Detroit style pizza has to be cooked in a high heat so the pan the fries would be on would mess with the heat and air flow, capisce? The dough didn’t cook right. That was probably partially on me since I didn’t really want to be dealing with the oven and watching the pizza instead of watching Wrestlemania. It’s also partially on the oven since it’s temperamental and finicky at times and again I didn’t really feel like dealing with it. The fries didn’t turn out great either for much the same reasons as the pizza but also because every french fry I’ve ever had out of an oven, no matter who makes it always turns out the same. Partially burned and partially uncooked at the same time. Oh and I also missed the end of the first match and good chunk of another match checking on the food.

I appreciate the effort, the expense (apparently she used some really good and pricey cheese), and that she tries to do nice things for me. I need to work on improving how I show that. With that said I still kind of hate surprises because 9 times out of 10 they either don’t provide the desired outcome or something gets fucked up. I took one bite of the fries and the pizza and knew it wasn’t for me. I found out the next day she was mad at me. The ultimate thrill ride? Nah, not so much! Oh, and the Undertaker retired.¬†