Midterm Madness

The last 5 weeks have been a blur of knife cuts, new friendships, getting back into the school mindset, commutes to Cordova, ever changing work schedules, wedding festivities, sorority recruitment workshops, and somewhere in there trying to squeeze in a social life.

I'm not sure how it happened so quickly, but I'm already having my first midterm of culinary school today. To be honest, culinary school is a lot more difficult than I mentally prepared for. I went in to this new phase of my life with the mindset that I would be at the top of my class. After being told that I'm one of ten students out of 400 with a bachelors degree, how could I not think that I would excel in the classroom? I was in for a rude awakening. Got my first test back (Yes, culinary school does have written tests...we lecture for two hours every day) and fuck me. I made a 92. OK, so that's not bad. It's an A. But when I've got my mind set on being the best, a 92 is kind of a slap in the face. And after that test...an 86, a 92, then finally pulled out a 100.

Ok, so not so bad in lecture. I have an A.

Now let's move on to the meat of the class. Lab. I've got my new knife bag full of shiny, sharp as shit knives ready to slice and dice anything thrown my way...until I realize that my knife skills suck. My Chef informs me that I have awful knife skills due to the fact that I'm right hand/left eye dominant--only the most challenging pair. I have to close one of my eyes at all times to get precise cuts. It's a bitch. I can't tourne (2 inch 7 sided football vegetable cut) a potato or a carrot to save my fucking life, nor can I julienne worth a shit. But, come to find out, I can make a mean mayonnaise...which definitely works to my advantage since that's part of my lab practical today. But, on the other hand, so are tournes and juliennes and every other knife cut I suck at.

I started second guessing my decision to go to culinary school after the first week of classes.

1. I'm in the minority at school. Well, actually, I'm the only privileged, sorority girl, bachelor's degree, Lexus driving white girl in school. I know more about food than my entire class combined. All of my classmates turn their noses up to avocados and garlic and onions...my favorites to eat. I was constantly asking myself, "How am I going to make it a year and a half with no friends in school?" Come to find out, I have a lot more in common with them than I thought...and I adore them and they adore me. If one of them isn't jumping out from behind doors and tackling me, someone else is hiding my books around the classroom...or prank calling me, or calling me a diva, you name it. The Chefs say that we're the closest 101 class they've ever seen...we even have a Facebook group. And we all have nicknames. There's Teddy B. Love (whom I named) that's the sweetest, most genuine black guy/aspiring rapper that I've ever met. Then Lil Bit who's an 18 year old, spit fire that works at McDonalds who calls me Momma. And Chief. She's my favorite. And her mother is dying of cancer in the hospital right now, and my heart breaks for her. Not only is she losing her mother, she's losing her best friend and babysitter. How is she supposed to bust her ass at work and go to school with two kids? I had to leave the kitchen Thursday when I found out because I couldn't quit crying. We're a family, and we have the most overwhelming love and respect for each other after only 5 weeks.

Puttanesca

2. Like I mentioned above, culinary school is hard. I've always excelled in everything that I've done or been a part of until now. I actually have to work hard at this, and it's not something I'm used to. But, I've come to realize, that the only thing I'm not that great at is knife skills, and Chef says that will come with time. But when it comes to the stove, I'm a bad bitch so watch me work. Last Thursday we made puttanesca and guess who was chosen to make dishes for dinner for the other chefs in the school. This girl right here. It was definitely my most proud moment in school so far. Once you have that feeling of achievement, you know you can actually do this and be good at it. It was that hump that I had to get over.

I'm no longer doubting myself. That doesn't mean I think I'm going to be the greatest chef that's ever lived, but I am going to be damn good at it. And ya'll are going to eat my food and fucking love it. And in case you're wondering, we have to say "Yes Chef" "No Chef" just like Hell's Kitchen. And I have a "culinary school boyfriend" that's crushing on me hard and brings food to me in class. Everyone's jealous. He's not so bad at drunken makeouts in my apartment parking lot in broad daylight either. Too bad he's 21 and lives with his parents.

  XOXO,

 Skeeter
(nickname in school)

Freaky Friday

Several of you people have asked me to write more often, but I honestly don't think I've done anything worthy of writing about. But, here goes.

Most of this weekend was a blur. I honestly can't remember a lot of details, so this is what I have gathered from the pictures on my phone, tweets, texts, dreaded Facebook picture notifications, and bruises. Bare with me while I piece together my weekend.

Friday:

8:04 AM
Email to two guys I work with...that I had made plans with TWO WEEKS AGO.

Buenos dias bitchachos.

I hope ya’ll are ready to party tonight. This has been one hellacious week for me, and I plan on loving life tonight. Anything in particular you chaps want to do? Since I’m a poor student again, I need to pregame pretty hardcore so I don’t spend so much at the bar…..Or else take liquor in to the bar with me like I did when I was 17 and really super cool. I’m up for playing drunk jenga and walking to the bar if that’s ok with yall. Oh, and I’m skipping an engagement party and staying in town tomorrow night…who’s exciteddddd.

Holla atcha girl.

The reply crushed my heart. I actually told them that they had crushed my heart. Both of them were "too tired" from the work week to go out. Do you know what time the bars close in Memphis? 3:00-4:00 AM. You have plenty of time to nap after work before going out. And, for those of you who know me, you know that I'm a planner. When my plans get fucked up, I freak out a little bit. So, that of course, ruined my entire day (until I got drunk and then everything was lovely).

Ok, so on to Plan B. Not the contraceptive. No unprotected sex last week. After mass texting all of my Memphian friends, I still wasn't happy with my Friday night options. I knew I wanted to go downtown and obviously Raifords was the ultimate goal.

8:27 PM Tweet

'Merica.

"Drinking sugar free redbull and vodka, watching the Olympics and eating a single turkey dog while pregaming for the bar. Dieting/broke girl."

First mistake. Pregaming with red bull and vodka. And if you know anything about me, you know I'm patriotic as fuck. I was running around the apartment singing the Star Spangled Banner and sporting my DIY American Flag jean vest over my outfit for the night. Second mistake. Only eating a 70 calorie turkey dog in hopes of soaking up all of the alcohol I planned on consuming.

9:40 PM Tweet from Felix

"This is how @mmp91 pregames. Texting 7 people (including me) and blaring music attempting to charge her phone."

So, I don't have a phone charge other than my Ipod dock. And I was texting a lot of people. And I did text Felix...while we were in the apartment together. And, as you can see in the picture he so kindly attached, I was sitting on my bed texting while my phone was charging on the dock. And I can guarantee I was jamming to Austin Brown's "Menage A Trois." Check it out.



At Raifords

We finally made it out. I was already really drunk. I didn't realize it, but Felix informed me the next day that I was already slurring by the time we walked in to Silkys. We met up with Lady Gaga (obvi not the real one, but she would definitely be friends with us if she knew us. This is a new character thrown in the mix.) From Silkys we rode in the limo to Raifords. All I really remember is meeting up with some more friends, singing Whitney Houston ballads, dancing my ass off, and constantly having a full cup of beer but not knowing how since I didn't buy but one beer. There really isn't any documentation in my phone from Friday night...the Ipod dock didn't do much good, and my phone died somewhere around midnight. Oh, but Gaga's didn't. Found this out when I was laying on the couch last night and had a million Facebook notifications. Pictures galore. And I got some tweets as well.

12:11 PM Tweet from Gaga

"Limo and VIP at Raifords!!! Going to be a good night!!!"

1:13 AM Tweet from Gaga

"RIP Whitney. #Iwillalwaysloveyou @mmp91."

Saturday was awful. After I had brunch with a friend, I stayed on the couch all day in the moomoo Felix's grandmother gave me while he told me stories from the night before. Apparently Gaga spent the night with us and I made her sleep in the bed with Felix. And I slept on the couch. Why didn't I just sleep in my own bed? And I was in so much distress because I only had $4 to tip the limo driver. And I kept trying to put my feet in Felix's face at the bar. He doesn't like feet.



My moomoo. This is not a joke.

Just thinking about how I felt on Saturday makes me sick. I'll have to recap Saturday night another day, but be looking out for it. It's a good one.

I will always love you,

Merekat