Well, I am totally pissed. I was all excited about my Outer Banks Taste of the Beach class today from 4-6 on
Learning the Secrets of Seafood.
At 3:15, I left home and drove the approximately 20-mile drive to the College of the Albemarle in Manteo where these classes are being held.
At 3:45, as I'm TURNING INTO THE PARKING LOT of the College of the Albemarle, my cell phone rings, and it's "Priscilla," who is apparently one of the event organizers or something, or maybe just some poor underling whose job it is to clean up after the higher ups eff it up. "Priscilla" informs me that the class for which I have tickets TODAY from 4-6 is actually being held on FRIDAY, March 7. It was a misprint on the web site.
Outer Banks Taste of the Beach
Oh yeah, they've changed the schedule NOW.
I kindly thank her for this heads up and ask her why she couldn't have called a bit earlier, say BEFORE I HAD TO DRIVE 40 MILES
(with gas being $3.10 here the last time I bought any)
and WASTE AN HOUR OF MY TIME.
I immediately called home to bitch at Mr. Hawthorne about this, because, of course, this is his fault. He naturally knew about it already, which I had figured out since Priscilla had my cell phone number.
He told me he gave her my number since he wasn't about to call me with the news.
Chicken Shit.
Speaking of chicken, when I finally got home, Mr. Hawthorne had been busy in the kitchen. Let me just say, "He Sandra-Lee'd it."
This is Mr. Hawthorne's Chicken Niplets, a sweet and savory combination of skinned and trimmed chicken pieces, Lipton Onion Soup Mix, Basmati rice and brown rice blend, and pineapple slices with cherry nipples.
Close up.
Learning the Secrets of Seafood.
At 3:15, I left home and drove the approximately 20-mile drive to the College of the Albemarle in Manteo where these classes are being held.
At 3:45, as I'm TURNING INTO THE PARKING LOT of the College of the Albemarle, my cell phone rings, and it's "Priscilla," who is apparently one of the event organizers or something, or maybe just some poor underling whose job it is to clean up after the higher ups eff it up. "Priscilla" informs me that the class for which I have tickets TODAY from 4-6 is actually being held on FRIDAY, March 7. It was a misprint on the web site.
Outer Banks Taste of the Beach
Oh yeah, they've changed the schedule NOW.
I kindly thank her for this heads up and ask her why she couldn't have called a bit earlier, say BEFORE I HAD TO DRIVE 40 MILES
(with gas being $3.10 here the last time I bought any)
and WASTE AN HOUR OF MY TIME.
I immediately called home to bitch at Mr. Hawthorne about this, because, of course, this is his fault. He naturally knew about it already, which I had figured out since Priscilla had my cell phone number.
He told me he gave her my number since he wasn't about to call me with the news.
Chicken Shit.
Speaking of chicken, when I finally got home, Mr. Hawthorne had been busy in the kitchen. Let me just say, "He Sandra-Lee'd it."
This is Mr. Hawthorne's Chicken Niplets, a sweet and savory combination of skinned and trimmed chicken pieces, Lipton Onion Soup Mix, Basmati rice and brown rice blend, and pineapple slices with cherry nipples.
Close up.
4 comments:
Loved this:
He told me he gave her my number since he wasn't about to call me with the news.
Chicken Shit.
But did Mr H do a tablescape? Did his shirt coordinate with the day-kor?
Rosie, maybe it's time for the official RRRosie Arrusssuppeee Box to preserve dishes like this. Searchable, of course, because chez Zeno we've never met a pineapple-marachino concoction we didn't like.
Besides, it would remind Mr. H. next time not to forget the Velveeta.
Heh. She said niplets.
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