chocolate cheese cake

I made a chocolate cheese cake that was awesome. And I made it by hand with a mixer that will probably give me carpal tunnel.

Looks like dog shit. Tastes good.

And my dad really IS trying to learn how to cook. Or is pretending to so I will watch these vids on learning how to cook:

Learning to cook. Right after I finish my course on meteorology.

I remade the cheesecake at my rents' house today. Too bad we couldn't figure out how to reduce the power in the microwave to melt the chocolate properly. There were lumps of it in the cheesecake where it hadn't melted properly. Fuck. My dad tasted it and was like "Hm. It tastes like chocolate."

Perhaps he doesn't trust me after I bought him an overly large cart for his birthday. The cart he bought is to the right. The one I bought is to the left. Yeah, it's big.

can I babysit your dog?????

No beers were harmed in the taking of this picture.

"I'll just have a tiny piece of cheesecake"

Everyone's afraid to eat anything I cook now after my last batch of egg rolls disintegrated in the refrigerator and after I accidentally cooked a steak in my slow cooker for 2 days thinking that would make it even more tender.

When I removed the springform the cheese cake poofed out like a fat woman taking off a girdle. I think it's supposed to do that but perhaps it seemed unsettling to people who were offered a piece. That's the raspberry sauce with chambord in the back...

Smallest. Piece. Ever.

For the record, it was good. And my dad has been watching the food network because he thinks if I can learn to cook he can too.

I may have died and gone to hell this weekend (and by hell I mean IKEA)

That's my belief, anyway, if for no other reason than I had to put together an IKEA bookshelf. You know, the one with the weird instructions where the thing that looks like a tear drop with eyes is calling the IKEA hot line and where you have to line up like 12 screws to put on the side of the book shelf and they don't line up and then you drop the bookshelf on your toe which really hurts because the fucking thing weighs 75 lbs. Which you know because the guy in the IKEA loading zone told you as he was watching you struggle to lift it and put it into your car and then he goes "I could have helped you with that" and you don't even respond to him because you're pissed that the most important part of the bookshelf, the casters, were sold out and you watched a couple take the last set from the far end of the IKEA furniture pickup warehouse. When you checked on line the hour before there were 8 sets left.

For real. They sold out in 45 minutes?

I should have known better. I haven't been to IKEA since I was almost killed by one of their closets in NYC.

BTW, the IKEA here doesn't have cookies. What's up with that?

As I was struggling with my bookshelf I started thinking it would be really funny if that 70 virgins waiting in heaven for matyrs was a typo and when they die and get to where ever they're going they instead have to put together 70 pieces of IKEA furniture. For the record, the arabic word (one of them) for virgin is "baakira". I could see how someone not paying attention could translate "virgin" instead of "IKEA".