I am at my most miserly when given a gift that I don’t like. I can’t help it. It’s a combination of an overly expressive face and an underdeveloped sense of gratitude. The upside is that when I do get a gift I like, you’ll know it. I will emote wild rays of gratitude. Otherwise, I’m a bit assy. I can’t help it.
Alex pointed this out while reeling from the shock of her unopened birthday present.
“When I got you that autographed picture of Martin Short two years ago you went crazy and said it was the perfect gift,” she explained. “With this you were just like: it’s ok.”
And then tonight Lauren and our friend Coxy made me Welcome Home S’Mores.
“How sweet,” I said.
I watched them fork their marshmallows:
Then toast them on the open flame:
After which they assembled the sandwich:
And proceeded to eat:
“Ummm hello,” I complained, “aren’t you going to toast the whole s’more? How else will the chocolate melt?”
“The marshmallow melts the chocolate, dumbass!” quipped Coxy.
“Nu uh,” I proffered. “At camp we toasted the whole thing.”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “He went to acting camp,” she explained.
Furious, I ran to my computer and typed in “S’mores” on Epicurious. Sure enough a recipe surfaced where you make the sandwich, wrap it in tinfoil, and toast it on the fire.
“Aha!” I yelped into the other room. “Epicurious says you DO toast the whole sandwich!”
Lauren and Coxy were unimpressed.
“Well maybe if you want gourmet s’mores you do,” Lauren chided. “But if you ever went to camp this is how you do it.”
Seething with anger, I stormed back into the kitchen and chomped on an undermelted s’more:
The worst welcome home ever! (Just kidding. It was sweet).
