Factory Girl: attempting the culinary arts

I am the world’s oldest-living teenager. My spirit age is 17 — I’m angst-ridden; my accessories are adorned with spikes; I love in-your-face punk-rock music blasting at extreme volumes while I drive my car. I shop at Forever 21 and frequently use terms like “ratchet” and “basic.”

I have extreme emotional highs and lows; I'm nowhere near ready to get married or have children. I like to stick it to “the man" and spend recklessly.   I perpetually dream about how rich, famous and fabulous I will be when “I grow up.”   Most notably, however, I have absolutely zero interest in cooking or any other domestic activity (don’t all line up to date me at once!).

Recently I've been doing some pretty deep work on myself (it’s an effing nightmare — I don’t recommend it to anyone), and I’ve realized that the clock is ticking. My lack of life skills might be charming on a doe-eyed, lip-gloss-sporting teenager, but at 28, it’s not so cute anymore.  If I ever want to have a relationship that doesn’t have a dysfunctional, co-dependent parent-child dynamic, then I better get my you-know-what together.

I vowed to learn how to COOK (I mean one day I might want to throw a dinner party that, like, isn’t catered, right?).  I called up Domestic Goddess, Eduardo Anaya, and begged him to teach me his secrets in mastering the art of being the perfect Sarasota Society Lady. After much bribing, Ms. Proper himself (armed with a bottle of windex and pearls) strutted over to my parent’s house (because I’m but a teenager, I spend a LOT of time there) and gave me a master class in home-economics.

I’m forever changed. I'm suddenly burning with desire to bear children, quit my job, move to the English countryside and bake pies all day. Honest. Instead of buying that blue mascara I’ve been promising myself come payday, I’m going to invest in a rolling pin!  I highly recommend Lady Eduardo to teach you the way out of the ratchet life and into the world of domestic bliss. I feel so safe now.