Sherman Ave's Recipes for Disaster
Jenny Talia, our resident love-child of Wolfgang Puck and Giada de Laurentiis, brings you the first installment of Sherman Ave's Recipes for Disaster:
A Molten Mental Breakdown Brownie
Prep time: Weeks of aggregate stress Cook time: One moment of extreme frustration Total time: 10 blaring minutes of insanity Difficulty: Anyone can do it! Yield: Multiple Recommendations to CALM THE FUCK DOWN
- 4 conspiring professors
- 7 sleepless nights
- 8 cups of sugar
- 4 sticks of butter
- 10 galloons of Starbucks Refreshers ™
- 1 IV drip
- 1 camel
- 1 small piece of straw
- Infinite expletives
- Immeasurable rage
- Realize after the drop deadline your finals are all on the same day. (Note: the only way this is possible is if your professors got together and made the conscious decision to shaft you)
- Procrastinate until reading week
- Do not sleep at all during reading week
- Consume butter and sugar raw by means of copious amounts of junk/comfort food that you don’t want to eat but feel like you should because YOU. ARE. STRESSED.
- Continuously pump Starbucks Refreshers™ through your veins day and night to stay awake and labor away so you don’t fail your exams, drop out of school and ultimately end up the homeless failure of your entire family
- While in the library studying on your 9th gallon of Refreshers™, someone taps you on the shoulder and in response punch them in the face, break their nose and then continue to jump on the desk and scream expletives while pulling out your prematurely grey hair and stamping like a constipated baboon for 10 minutes
- Do alright on your exams.
Green Eggs and Harold, You’re Adopted
Prep Time: 18 years of “eh, we can tell him before he leaves for college” Cook Time: 5 more years of “nooo he’s still not ready” Total time: 23 years of LIES Yield: One fish Two fish Red Fish Broken-childhood-and-a-train-ticket-to-find-Saint-Louis-to-find-your-real-mom-Fish Difficulty: Harder than writing seemingly effortless children’s literature for all of humanity to love for all of eternity.
- 2 eggs sunny side up
- 1 hunk of ham
- Hella green food dye
- 24 years of lies, deceit and ignorant bliss
- 1 metaphorical wrecking ball
- 1 metaphorical Miley Cyrus in steel-toed Doc Martens coming to kick you in the face
- One splintered soul broken in two
- A bazillion fractured pieces of screaming confusion
- You are Harold, Harold you are
- In the car you are, you are in the car
- You look at your mom, your mom looks at you
- “Mom why do you look so blue?”
- “Oh Harold. Harold, my dear. I fear I must tell you something sincere”
- “Mom, for the last fucking time I don’t want to eat green eggs and ham. I don’t care if you insist I need the protein. I’m 23 I can choose if I want to eat eggs that look like a goose shat diarrhea right in the middle of them or not”
- “Would you like them in a house? Would you like them with a mouse?”
- “Mom. NO.”
- “Would you eat them in a box? Would you eat them in HAROLD YOU’RE ADOPTED”
- You are Harold, Harold you are. Harold sits silently. Harold sits silently, but his body trembles violently
- “What. Mom I’m 23 years old. This can’t be true.”
- “I’m afraid It’s as true as the sea is blue, honey boo boo…”
- Silence ensues for two long minutes
- “I do not like green eggs and ham. But I do not like you even more ‘mom’”
- “Now I gotta go hop on pop and beat the shit out of him”
- Flip off your “mother”, jump out of the car and never look back.
The Red Velvet Upside Down Cake
Prep time: A few minutes of foreplay Cook time: Depends Total time: A lifetime of never forgetting that one time the most awkward thing ever happened Difficulty: 2 and a half arbitrary thumbs up and 1 thumb sideways Yield: 3 gasps of pleasure followed by a baker’s dozen gasps of terror
- 3 dashes of foreplay
- 1st and 2nd base
- 1 splash of seemingly normal cunnilingus
- 1 sprinkle of forgetting to check her “My Monthly Cycles” app
- 1 hefty serving of confusion
- An exorbitant amounts of disgust
- 0 break up OR make up sex. Ever. Again.
- An infinite loop of “And I got that red lip thing that you like” from Taylor Swift’s “Style” playing in your head for all of eternity.
- Preheat oven to One Hundred and Sexty-Sex degrees ;)
- Partake in some kissing, fondling, groping – the works, if you will
- Continue the kissing, fondling and groping… down under – if you will, Mate
- FUCKING HALT.
- Scream a little
- Cry a little
- Blot your lips as tears stream down your flushed cheeks
- Question the trust you and she built over the past 38 months. Like, you just had your three-year anniversary and she does this?? Question whether she is really the girl you thought she was. You thought she was responsible, honest and aware. OBVIOUSLY she is not. You thought you were going to marry her. Imagine the 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom cottage in Minocqua, Wisconsin you and her drove by that one time and how you secretly made plans to buy it at the end of the year so you and her could go there in summers and watch the sun set over Lake Michigan every night.
- Experience your red tinted lips tremble as you realize everything you thought to be true in this world is a lie
- Travel to Niagara Falls and jump because what is gravity anyway????