my mom is not amazing

She's actually kinda mean. But that is a rant for a different day.

So I was just having a little snack-attack and decided to bust out the Pineapple Coconut Haagen Dazs that was purchased just this last week. I put a scoop and a half into a medium-sized bowl (I know, in my last post I claimed to "almost never" eat my ice cream out of a dish...here's the sitch: if said ice cream is being consumed a la carte, then it is done so with a teaspoon directly from the carton; when said ice cream is on something or with something, it goes into a dish. kthx).

I then nuked me some Dulce de Leche sauce, busted up some pecan halves, and sliced up a banana for on top. (You think this is a glamorous snack? Ask my mean mom about the time I came home from school, in the seventh grade, and cooked myself up some lobster tails with drawn butter for a snack...).

But as I'm slicing my banana for the top 'o my snack fest, I have this really vivid memory of my mom slicing bananas for the top of my cereal and how I used to marvel at how incredibly fast she'd slice that banana and how she never cut her thumb that she'd use to stop the knife with (nevermind that it was a butter knife - I was pretty wee and all I knew was knife). My mom might have done some good stuff during my childhood, but what I remember when I think of her being amazing is how supah dupah fastly she'd cut that banana and how each and every slice appeared to be the exact same width and how they'd be so perfectly evenly sprinkled across my cereal.

Man, I seriously thought my mom was a culinary genius!

But then I grew up and became kinda culinary genius-ish myself. And I am sad to report that my mom ("whatsa risotto?" "is it EYE-talian?") don't know so much about cooking stuffs.

I am also sad to report that the superfast slicing of a banana is really fucking easy.