Apparently, it's one of those days where my witty repartee has become less witty and more ridiculous. For example.
For the past two or so weeks, I have been trying to make brownies. This has been increasingly unsuccessful. I know I can make them, but they don't seem to know that. The first batch just didn't bake. The second batch were... strange. I got the recipe out of a cookbook put together by poligamists. Instead of coming out like brownies are supposed to, they ended up looking like a baked mass of brown sugar, crumbly and actually quite burned. The third batch I made last night. I didn't think I had nine tablespoons of cocoa left, so I opted for putting in a square of cooking chocolate instead (the recipe said it was okay). As I tilted my head and stared at the caramel-coloured batter, I decided to put yet another square in. Still, coming out roughly the colour of butterscotch.
So, I put them in the oven anyway. They came out just like brownies should. Only... they tasted halfway between nothing and peanut butter.
But, today, I tried again. And, today, it worked. And as I pulled the brownies out of the oven, I sang.
No. I'm not high.