The Great Sheffield Pancake Incident

I am a foodie. My hips do not lie. I also, on occasion, will throw down and act like a bit of a bitchy princess. I will also admit, that I am a bit irrational at times. Some may even argue a little insane. And I may not dispute that point, because I might…somewhat…sometimes agree… But, hell, I am a woman, after all. It just stands to reason that I may, at times, become irrational…especially when booze, food, or social media are involved. Another fun, little fact about me would be that when I wake up from what I call one of my “coma naps,” people need not try to reason with me…or even talk to me…for about an hour. I needn’t have conversations, drive a car, handle heavy equipment, bake, or try and talk someone off a ledge during that “coming back to reality” hour…because bad things will happen. So, that is the little backstory as to how Great Pancake Incident transpired. Fast-forward to Tuesday, 3 p.m.— I call mom while I’m at work and ask her if we can have pancakes for dinner. While I am normally NOT a breakfast-for-dinner type-gal, I had the biggest hankering for pancakes. Well, pancakes and Nutella to be exact. Mom said she’d think on it. I should probably mention here that I do none of the cooking at our house. While I would like to think that I am a skilled baker, I absolutely HATE cooking. I hate it. So there I sit…for two long, painstaking hours thinking about my pancakes. Nutella and pancakes? HEAVEN. I go home, and decide to take a little siesta after my oh-so-long day. Fast-forward two hours when I awoke from my coma nap. I walk into our living room and ask mom where ol’ Smitty is. She tells me that he went to town to get some spaghetti sauce. **Insert “What the wha??”** **Insert crazy face** **Insert hostile, sleepy, foggy headed foodie** **Insert hissy fit befitting a two year-old.** **Insert statements such as: “Well, what the heck happened to my pancakes?” “Why do you constantly choose to make things I don’t eat.” “I DON’T EVEN EAT SPAGHETTI!” “Well whose idea was this??” Then the following conversation happened: Mom: “Aleta, I will make your pancakes for you.” Me: “Nooooooo. Don’t bother. Just fix your stupid spaghetti…Don’t worry about me.” Fast-forward a few minutes: One very un-happy, unsatisfied, grumpy princess sits on the couch eating Eggo chocolate chip waffles covered with Nutella, deleting certain people from her house off her facebook. Lessons learned: 1. I am a woman and I am sometimes utterly ridiculous. 2. I really hate spaghetti. 3. It’s not wise to not give a hungry, sleepy foodie what she wants. 4. Just because you live in my house does not mean you’re exempt from being deleted from my facebook friends. 5. I really wanted pancakes.