So, I'm a bigger disaster in the kitchen than I thought I was.
And that's definitely saying something.

Once Za wanted to take me on a picnic, and told me to bring food, and I was like,
"Do you have some sort of twisted deathwish ?"

Sam and I decided to bake cookies today. Suhhweet peanut butter and chocolate cookies. Big mistake, you have no idea.
We bought everything we needed; Chocolate chips, and er.. chocolate chips.

Came home, and immediately started getting to work, irritating the life out of everybody while we were at it, of course.
Laid everything out like two professionals (which we aren't, you will come to learn) and began our torture of flour, etc etc.
It was, admittedly, the first time I had ever baked in my life, and I fucking enjoyed myself, and I amused myself so much playing with the cookie dough and peanut butter.
Finally tossed them in the oven, after like, ages of going crazy and bursting into insane fits of giggles.
We got flour and dough all over the kitchen, which didn't sit with well with Mother.
Popped our cookies into the oven, and cleaned up the kitchen while waiting.
12minutes later, a burning smell is wafting throughout the house.
Turns out, our cookies are burnt.
It was, by far, one of the most depressing moments of my life.

I spent the next half hour scraping the burnt bits of the cookies off, and munching on crumbs.

I'm never baking again, it hurts my heart too much.
So next week, I'M COOKING.
(I kid. I will, no doubt, burn the whole off Pantai Hillpark down.)