How to Not Make A Pot Roast

How to Not Make A Pot Roast
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Step 1: Be an idiot single guy.

Step 2: Ignore redundancy of Step 1.

Step 3: Glance at recipe 24 hours prior to attempting meal for the first time.

Step 4: "Lose" Crock Pot instruction manual containing aforementioned recipe.

Step 5: Make decision to begin cooking 30 minutes prior to when you must leave for a lunch meeting because you just realized the beef chuck roast has been in the fridge for three days and it might be going bad and you don't want a replay of the time you tried to eat hamburger meat that had been in the fridge for five days.

Step 6: Think about calling Mom for help.

Step 7: Don't call Mom.

Step 8: Remember from recipe that you need three potatoes, three onions and some celery (You already have carrots because you've never seen a rabbit with glasses, have you? Thanks, Dad.).

Step 9: Run next door to the highway robbery mart and buy the aforementioned ingredients.

Step 10: Wash, slice and peel.

Step 11: Impress self by recalling that recipe also calls for 1 Cup of beef broth and ½ Cup of flour. (You already have these because...you have no clue why.)

Step 12: Place chuck roast in Crock Pot. Add veggies and potatoes on top.

Step 13: Go to measure 1 Cup of beef broth and then remember that you left your measuring cup at Travis's apartment when making Vodka-Gatorades for the Six-Man Volleyball Tournament which took place the first weekend in August. Stop and smile at hazy memory of babes in bikinis.

Step 14: Decide that 1 Cup = 16-ounces. Since the can of beef broth is 14-ounces, you're fine. Add broth.

Step 15: "Wing it" with the flour measuring. This is messier than you thought it would be, and you thought it would be pretty messy.

Step 16: Get distracted by newest Time Magazine, whose cover discusses the looming Depression. Decide you will move to South Bend - if you can ever sell an f'ing script - because houses are a lot cheaper there than Manhattan Beach, CA. Plus, people are nicer in Indiana, so it's likely there will be less pushing on the bread lines.

Step 17: Snap out of daze and realize you are going to be late for lunch.

Step 18: Run to bathroom and turn on shower, since it takes 20 minutes for hot water to come on. Apologize to polar bears for your huge carbon footprint.

Step 19: On way back to kitchen, "find" Crock Pot manual sitting atop your laptop's keyboard. The booklet is white, contrasting nicely with the black computer. Decide to offer your services in the hunt for Bin Laden.

Step 20: Read recipe again. Curse.

Step 21: Lift up chuck roast, so that all the potatoes and veggies fall to the bottom of the Crock Pot, which is where they should be, according to the recipe. Place roast on top of potatoes and veggies.

Step 22: Cover. Press "cook" button. Grudgingly nod that, yes, that was pretty easy.

Step 23: Take shower.

Step 24: Post getting dressed - 10 minutes after cooking has started - lift Crock Pot lid to check progress. Use spoon to scoop broth onto powdery flour that seems to be all over the roast, yet not getting moist.

Step 25: Replace lid. Realize lid is glass, thus negating need to remove lid to check progress.

Step 26: Go to lunch.

Step 27: Call friend to find out if she is okay, since she is 15 minutes late.

Step 28: Learn that friend is at Jiffy Lube (not site of lunch).

Step 29: Get home 10 minutes later. Check progress through glass. Notice that flour seems to be crusting. Yuck.

Step 30: Remove lid. Use spoon to scoop broth onto crusty flour.

Step 31: Replace lid.

Step 32: Read Crock Pot usage instructions. Learn that you are not absolutely not - under no circumstances - supposed to uncover the Crock Pot within the first two hours of cooking because such an action will prevent the proper level of heat from building.

Step 33: Curse.

Step 34: Reduce stress by taking nap.

Step 35: Wake up due to realization that 1 Cup = 8 ounces, not 16. Find self unable to go back to sleep due to fear of overflowing beef broth and subsequent electrical fire.

Step 36: Be surprised when, six hours after cooking started, you lift lid to see a "right" looking roast happily cooking in aromatic, bubbling juices.

Step 37: Burn tongue.

Step 38: Be even more surprised when tasting the best f'ing pot roast you've ever had. Realize that the Crock Pot is idiot proof, just like the state-of-the-art drivers that allow crappy golfers like my friend Larry crush the ball 300-yards right down the middle of the fairway.

Step 39: Make promise to self to buy new driver.

Step 40: Call Mom to find out what kind of container I need to freeze half this pot roast.

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