My husband has decided to cook dinner.

This never happens, and I mean never, unless you count “Hey, lets order a pizza” as him cooking, which ironically enough, he does count that as him cooking.

My husband wanted to recreate his mothers fried chicken recipe, I know what you’re thinking, of course I know how to cook fried chicken, but I do not use mayonnaise as the breading, and according to my husbands mother, this is a must.

So, husband decided to give his parents a call so he could get the recipe. The following is what transpired, and keep in mind, I was only able to hear my husbands end of the conversation, but I think it is safe to say we all know what went on on the other end of the line.

“Hi Dad”

“You guys home?”

“Well,I wanted to talk to mom, I’m going to cook tonight”

“Yeah, cook tonight”

“I’m going to cook”

“She is fine, I just wanted to cook”

“Is mom there?”

I of course find this one sided conversation hilarious, actually both me and my 17 yr old find this to be quite funny. I mean really, you do not have to be a rocket scientist to figure out the other end of the conversation…right?

But it gets better.

“Hi Mom, I wanted to cook your chicken and mayo recipe can you tell me how to do it?”

“Yes, I’m cooking”

“She’s fine,I just want to cook”

“Yeah, cook, I am going to cook”

“I wanted to cook the chicken and mayo”

“Yes, I’m going to cook”

“What is wrong with everyone, I cook every now and then”

this is the part when my 17yr old and I lost it, you know that uncontrollable laughter, where you cannot even breathe, yep, that was us…..and my husbands parents, I do believe I heard them laughing on the other end of the phone.

But it gets even better.

Husband gets off the phone heads into the kitchen to start his chicken and mayo masterpiece. He tells me “Just relax, take a night off”. I get my wine, get comfortable and then it begins. First it starts off with a simple

“Hey….what pan do you think I should use”

Followed by a

“Where is the oil”

and a

“Oh wait, where is the chicken?”

throw in a few

“Hey come look at this, do you think it is done, how come we do not have any tongs, where are the paper towels, should I throw it in the oven”

and in closing

“Can you just let me know when the chicken is finished”

Honestly, it would have been much less work for me if I cooked the blasted chicken myself and just told him I put mayo on it.

With that being said, if you do not hear from me in a few days, that means I have salmonella poisoning.

Cheers!