Oh, and I cooked a turkey breast last night in my crockpot.
Now those of you who read Faustus' blog regularly won't be impressed by my pedestrian fare. "But wait," I hear you cry, "Faustus can make delicious baked goods out of nothing more than moonlight and wishes and all you could do is slow-cook a turkey breast? We should be impressed by this?"
To which I reply, "Fuck you."
Okay, so I may not be as good a cook as Faustus. Or as cute. Or as young. Or as bendy. Or as literate. Um . . . I'm not really sure where I was going with that, but I think I need to go lie down and cry now.