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Self is a bit of an idiot. Self suggests things like getting up at 5am to swim laps, or giving up Nutella for Lent. Is Self out of her freaking mind?
Then there was this one:
Self: You know, Ian and Julian would take more of an interest in eating if you cooked fun things for them.
Me: What's fun?
Self: You know (self wags a ladylike hand), you can make twists on what they like already. What do they like?
Me: Gummy snacks, pudding, ice cream and bread with butter.
Self: Oh. Well, that's not much to work with. But there's always the Internet!
A few Googles later...
Me: Here, Self, there's a recipe for something called Taco Pie. Beef, cheese, sour cream, corn chips on top of Pillsbury dough. I can manage this.
Self: See there! Easy peasy lemon squeezy!
Later that night...
Ian: What's this?
Me: (Smiling like I just found out my novel is going to be published, with not one revision.) It's called Taco Pie! You'll love it! Yum!
Ian and Julian look suspiciously from each other to the Taco Pie. I lay a slice of it onto each of their plates. Ian leans in, like a dog, nose out.
Me: Smells good, right!? Yum!
Ian: This smells like poop.
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