Temporary Obsession
Mining Cultural Ephemera since 2009
My stupid mouth has gotten me in trouble. I said too much. Again.
CS made steaks again. Clearly, last time failed and he has something to prove, but making the exact same thing as you did last time doesn’t exactly instill confidence in your audience.
I guess, to be fair, I should explain other things that have built this feeling up. CS and his girlfriend rarely, if ever, try/eat any sort of sweet baked good that D, D’s girlfriend, or myself have made. There’s been a few exceptions (he had a piece of the bread pudding I made last night), but for the most part there’s been no reciprocation for us eating what they’ve baked. This is strike 1.
There’s also been a constant debate about the oven. CS is a perfect cook–it is the equipment he uses that is to blame. When the oven is set to 350, it clearly isn’t at 350, because the oven thermometer that he placed in there to check says it isn’t at 350. Nevermind the fact that an oven circulates around a temperature rather than staying directly at that temp (I haven’t had to take heat transfer and even I know how an oven works). Nevermind, even, that D, D’s girlfriend, and myself have baked cookies/a cake/biscuits/bread pudding at the listed temperature in our various recipes and had things come out fine; occasionally, things take an additional minute or two, but this is par for the course with any oven. Clearly it is the oven that is broken, and not the baker. This is strike 2.
Then there’s communal groceries. One person buys, everyone pays for food that the entire group will be eating/drinking. Everyone’s been pretty good about paying, except for CS. CS “doesn’t carry cash” and tries to pay me in groceries/stuff/whatever–this is not the same. When reminded of a mythical machine somewhere on campus that provides money with the swipe of a card, CS is hesitant to go. When I remind him that they take credit cards too, he mentions something about interest rates (he’s always quick to use his card, but at the slightest mention of using it to pay me back, suddenly interest is an issue). When I mention another rumored device, pieces of paper issued by a bank that work similar to cash when written on and given from one person to a merchant or other person, CS replies that his are at home. I finally get a promise to get me cash tomorrow using a debit card and an ATM. This is strike 3.
As you can see, I have plenty to be irritated about. I’ve been pretty patient about all of this, but something finally snapped tonight after dinner. CS and his girlfriend were making chocolate chip cookies. The last time they did this, the cookies were semi-burnt and tasted awful, but CS, girlfriend, and some friend of CS thought they were FANTASTIC and wouldn’t shut up about how great they were. Because these cookies were “like crack”, CS and his girlfriend started on another batch after dinner. When I walked out into the main room, they were discussing oven temp. I don’t know why this of all things incited me, but it did.
I suggested they bake the cookies at 350 like their recipe said. CS argued with me using the arguments from last time of “the oven doesn’t heat up…I know it’s supposed to circulate, but ours is still off”. I brought up the track record, amongst other reasoned arguments, but everytime I’d bring something up, he’d start up again with “Actually,…”. I have enough fun playing the “Actually,…” game with my sister at home; when it happens, it usually ends with me saying “Actually, [sister], I don’t care.” but those weren’t the words that came out of my mouth when CS and I were talking.
Instead, what I said was “Actually, CS, I don’t give a shit.” Something like a “Then why are you making a fuss about it” came out but by that time I had started going back to my room, too focused about getting away from the negative energy to throw out a “because I have to suffer through your terrible baking” or something similar, but more vulgar (given the mood I was in, this is likely).
Do I feel bad about saying this? Yes. Did it feel good to say it? Yes. I just wish I could have thought a bit before shooting my mouth off. Oh well. Time to let it roll off my back and move on with a more positive outlook.
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