Something's cookin...

Men shouldn't be allowed to shop for vegetables. As far as I'm concerned, my limited knowledge of picking 'good' vegetables is restricted to the dining table, not to the vegetable vendor. Right from my childhood to present day, I've maintained that I have two left hands when it comes to buying veggies. And despite knowing this, my wife has no other go but to send me and everytime I return, I feel like a narc smuggler waiting for the customs official to give his verdict..err...her verdict, in this case. How the hell do you make out how ripe or raw a particular veggie is, or for that matter, how 'cookable' it is? Never could figure it out. Never. If it is down-right rotten or withered, yeah, I can see that, I have that much discretion in me. The trouble is when you've to pick up a veggie that looks ok, looks good and when it lands in the kitchen, it becomes 'unfit' all of a sudden. "It's not good enough." "See? It shouldn't bend here like this." "Oh no, this one's not the right texture." Phew! Choosing a car is much easier. Speaking of which, we return to my first statement here. Because, whenever the wife sends you to buy veggies, chances are you're thinking of that brand new hotwheel you saw in a a magazine recently. Or that sleek looking electronic gizmo that you've been leching at the last century or so, all because you never seem to be having enough money to buy it. How will you, whatever short change you plan to save, goes into buying more veggies. Well, can't blame the poor little things, you've to eat something, right? Else how'll you have enough energy to think about that huge plasma you plan to buy with your retirement money?

Men should concentrate on more important things in life, such as...such as, the grand prix, or the news or...better yet, the stock exchange. But they shouldn't be allowed to buy veggies. Period.