Maybe my sister just shouldn’t cook. First off, she made the fajitas the other day and even though they were acceptable, the peppers made it below par. Today, she took a crack at chili. Eff me! That was not chili. There was no spice. There wasn’t any life to it at all.
Her chili was kind of like the ugly/fat friend that all girls have. You know what it is. Four gals go out for drinks and games of bad judgement. Three of them are smokin’ hot. Taking all day to get themselves ready. You know that when you see them and when you know the time they spent getting ready, you’ll be satisfied. Then you have the other gal. The fat/ugly friend. She’s the one who spent 1o minutes getting ready and tossed on some cheap perfume or wal-mart/target style clothes. It might look like she’s good and hot, but she nothing more than just an off the shelf can of chili, claiming to be like the real thing.
If she was going to make chili, she would have had to start for hours prior to serving it. My mom makes amazing chili. She spends all day cooking it! Did my sister just use canned chili? I want home made chili. I want the three pounds of cheese to cover it, dip the saltine crackers in it and know, that in a few short hours, I will regret even taking a bite. I don’t want you to think I hate chili. I love it. I love my moms chilis and I think it’s either Outback Steakhouse or Longhorn. One of those two have good chili.
To be picky, I can’t do chili dogs. I find them repulsive. Not to mention, messy. I am simple when it comes to hot dogs. I like it with just ketchup. Don’t top it with onions, relish, mustard, peppers, cheese, etc… Just a nice squirt of ketchup and you got a happy guy.
In closing, my sister cannot make chili. Or fajitas. I better not gripe too much. She cooks dinner more than I do. I brown bag it.