Recipe for Disaster

Category: Main Dish

Best Paired with: strife, doubt, and heavy hors d'oeuvres

Preheat: to an unbearable temperature; most likely to come to fruition during summer

Prep time: a sad, exhausting spans of a lifetime

Cook time: less than thirty seconds

Ingredients:

-one failed marriage (optional: can include other failed marriages if available)

-1/10 of your self-esteem (that’s all you have left)

-ten heavily mixed drinks (stout, I mean, really stout)

-a dash of stifling insecurity (dash = the whole salt shaker fell in)

-two loathsome jobs (could any other adjective really be used to describe a job?)

-one ungrateful, grown kid (twenty-five years old)

-one overzealous kid who sees you for everything you are, the good and the bad, but mostly the insincerity (fifteen years old)

-zero in the bank account (okay, not really zero. when did five thousand dollars feel like nothing?)

-one car that won’t start (should have bought a Toyota)

-½ a heart that is badly broken and smashed (reference to first ingredient)

-½ a heart that has clogged arteries (the other half that isn’t badly shattered - attributed to an abundance of greasy cheeseburgers, cheese-laden pizza, and sugary drinks) 

-three dogs (corgis, nonetheless, that rely on you for everything; never a good idea to own multiples, unless you are the Queen of England)

-ten recent dates where the women wanted you to pick up the full check; they shrugged off dessert, not literal dessert, but the bedroom variety; and you never heard from them again (ahem!)

-one married woman who flirts with you at work (she consumes your thoughts)

-one Rx for erectile dysfunction (a hard disclosure, no pun intended)

-¾ of the top of your head going bald (the very worst ingredient, even worse than previously mentioned Rx and/or ailment)

-zero times you’ve had sex in the past year (unlike bank account, this number is accurate)

-one supervisor (she micromanages everything you do, including calling you out for that one long lunch you took with said married co-worker)

-½ a toothache (it started as half a tooth in peril, but now feels like the full left side of your face)

-one insurance plan (includes medical, dental and vision, but robs you of the majority of your paycheck)

-one monthly alimony disbursement (takes the rest of your paycheck)

-one child support payment (goes to recipient of alimony, so yes, you have nothing left to buy groceries or pay for those expected meals with uninterested dates)

-ten football games (five college and five national football league games that you watch listlessly as the weekend passes you by)

-one phone call that you think about making (to hitched co-worker who preoccupies your thoughts, memories of her cleavage on repeat)

-two handguns (on standby for intruders; no, they won’t be used gratuitously)

-one AC (air-conditioning) unit that is on the blink (refer to preheat instructions; it is dreaded summertime)

-twenty pound weight gain (it’s not muscle, trust me)

-one teaspoon of guilt

-two cups of shame

-one adulterous affair (not previously disclosed, but the reason for the first ingredient)

-a pinch of crushing silence (just the background noise of those interminable football games)

-one cancelled vacation (there’s no mirth in travelling alone)

-five days of incessant rain (without sunlight, the spirit fades)

-one younger sibling who died unexpectedly (the assumption being that they would prod you on with laughter)

-an unlimited supply of emptiness

-nineteen sleepless nights (the result of pondering all the above ingredients)

Instructions:

-Take the first four ingredients and mix them together in a large tumbler until you can’t feel anything (failed marriage, low self-respect, hard alcohol, and crippling self-doubt)

-Compartmentalize the next four ingredients (pathetic career, unappreciative and knowing children, dwindling bank balance, and unreliable vehicle)

-Ignore the heart situation (broken and clogged)

-Obsess about the dogs, unrealized dates, and the hot vixen at work (at least one of the jobs offers eye-candy; the dogs might sustain you, providing some level of amusement)

-Try in vain to fix the erection problem, male-patterned baldness and lack of physical action (there is that thickening shampoo that you’ve debated purchasing; it could be the magic elixir)

-Add the next two ingredients slowly (you can opt for one or both, since raging tooth pain and obnoxious bosses are one and the same, hardly distinguishable)

-Throw the monetary ingredients to the wind; it’s just money, right?

-Relax with the obsessive thoughts of her voluptuous body and the never-ending stream of sports on replay

-Eat your feelings hence the exorbitant weight gain

-Toss in the shame and guilt as you ponder the infidelity, still longing for the affair partner, the one person who understood your grief

-Regret the loss of your trip, the one cancellation that represented something fun

-Stand in silence in the light rain, the wind blowing the mist against your face, the only sensory thing you can feel

-Bury your tears, along with your sibling; it’s a finality that gnaws

-Use the emptiness sparingly

-Let yourself crash into slumber this evening; disaster loves delusion brought on by lack of sleep

-Simmer for thirty seconds to achieve maximum potency

Storage instructions: Push down to the deepest recesses in your soul, to those inaccessible corners; refrigeration reminiscent of death (before the burial)

Possible substitutions: Happiness, intrigue, fulfillment, laughter, trips to the zoo (no, this should be in the ingredient list), a movie in a darkened theater where you can escape reality, a strip club, or sex with that beautiful, red-headed colleague (still holding out hope)

“Best before” date: When you’ve reached middle age and there’s no hope of salvaging anything better or erasing all the mistakes

Allergy and avoidance information: Avoid this meal if you’ve done everything right, planned and saved accordingly, especially if your 401k is rife with money

Food and beverage pairings: Best served with remorse or angst; red or white wines will suffice

Reviews:

***** Five stars - 95 loves - “Added a little more insecurity with some fresh lower back pain - perfection”

**** Four stars - 79 likes - “Simmer for an hour and you’ll be surprised at how much of it settles”

*** Three stars - 55 semi-likes - “Average recipe. I’ve seen much better, and yes, much worse”

** Two stars - 23 dislikes - “A novice at angst. Add some spice”

* One star - 3,069 wtf - “You should see my life”

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Cheers to new discoveries!