This is a Three Hundred Pound Meatloaf.
Someone stole a three pound meatloaf right out of my oven. I have puzzled over this for days and then the perpetrator struck again on Waffle Night.
Here is how this all played down. Because you really need to know.
So, the other night, I made meatloaf (really?) because I’m all domestic and shiz. Really, I could easily feed my kids Ramen but I like to cook them dinner every night regardless of whether or not they will actually eat it (they won’t.) I have some pretty picky kids and they shoot out requests at me like this is a friggin’ Olive Garden or something and it drives me crazy.
One thing they will eat is meatloaf provided that it is MY meatloaf. They know it, they trust it… they have no idea what is in it. But, this is what they requested the other night for dinner. Off to the store I trotted to get some hamburger, which anyone who lives in Washington State can testify to, costs about a million dollars a pound.
What my meatloaf doesn’t cost me is time. I know a lot of people who spend countless, um, minutes chopping celery and onions and carefully putting in the perfect amount of spices and flavor and I used to do this until I wised up. I changed my meatloaf recipe to the most ghetto recipe on earth and since having done so, I have achieved critical acclaim for this nonsense. Don’t believe me?… try it. I challenge you to make this ridiculous meatloaf and tell me it’s not delicious and easier than YOUR meatloaf.
Everyone puts bread or breadcrumbs or some other nonsense in there to soak up the grease and add zat certain sumtink to it. I toss in… a box of Stovetop Stuffing.
Hey, it’s bread. AND, it already has seasoning and onion and celery and all that junk. Meat, couple of eggs and a box of Stovetop and into the oven it goes. Then, there is the matter of topping it with ketchup, which I find most people do for the last few minutes. Not me… I use tomato sauce. Not spaghetti sauce… just plain ol’ tomato sauce. It’s yummy.
It was going to be yummy on Friday until someone broke into my house and stole the thing.
I made the meatloaf. I made some cornbread (there is NOTHING finer on this planet than cornbread). I made the mashed potatoes and the friggin’ gravy. I made the sweet peas. Then, I took Emi outside to call the kids to come in for dinner. When I entered the house again, the meatloaf was gone.
Someone abducted my friggin’ meatloaf. And… I want it back.
I am not kidding. My meatloaf was gone. Who in the hell steals a three pound meatloaf???
I have been haunted by this for days.
Then, the other night, the perp struck again only this time we actually got to eat the food and he merely pilfered all the leftovers. It was Owen Waffle night which means I madeabout forty dinner-plate sized waffles. The kids had a friend over for dinner and after they ate they all scampered off to play outside and I took Emi upstairs to give her a bath as she was covered in maple syrup. I had left the waffles in the oven to stay warm because the kids had asked me if, later, I would deep fry them and sprinkle them with powedered sugar for a late night snack. When I returned to the kitchen to do this, I cheerfully opened the oven to retrieve the waffles only to discover that they were gone.
I have televisions in every room of this house! I have a Wii and Playstations and a five hundred dollar electric guitar and amp right there in my living room! Who keeps breaking in and stealing food???!!!!!
I have a theory.
I am thinking that one of the neighborhood kids is a victim of human trafficking or something grandiose like that and clearly his keepers are not feeding him, leaving him forced to come to my house and steal my delicious cooking. I am beginning to think I should just leave food outside for him or something because God knows, he’s probably covered in body lice or something and I really do not need to de-louse my entire home and family. Four kids accumulate a lot of stuffed animals, ya know.
But I simply cannot let this poor slave starve to death. It’s my duty as a human being and a Christian to feed the hungry. I will simply feed the hungry…. outside.
Either that or I’ll be forced to start making disgusting food so that he’ll look elsewhere.
Sigh. I miss my meatloaf.