If you are hip to the Homemade Ocean Facebook page, then you know that last night I made a big blunder.

If you are not hip to our Facebook page, can you get on that because there is nothing I love more than talking to strangers.  Seriously.  Talk to me, not dirty though…my dad stalks that page.

Last night, we decided to keep the Cinco party train on it’s tracks and settle in with a margarita or three and some homemade Mexican food.  I started making some tasty queso, only to find out that we had no tortilla chips.  Bummer, so  I focused my attention on making the best chicken quesadilla this side of the US border.  We had a bulk six pack of canned chicken that I was too lazy to open so I scoured the pantry for more canned chicken.  Don’t judge me, I needed a quick and easy boyfriend-approved meal.

I found the chicken and microwaved (yup, microwaved) a tasty concoction of unhealthy cheese and pink chicken.  I decided I didn’t need any chicken in my quesadilla since it looked a little funny and served it to Tim with pep in my step and a smile on my face.  As I sat dipping plain tortillas in my cheese dip, Tim started questioning my gourmet abilities.  “Christina, this tastes like cat food” he says, “I am not sure I can finish this” he says, “gag, cough, gag” he says.

After some convincing on my part, I assured him that it was straight out of the can that HE bought.  It has to be chicken, because he bought it.  Tim hates canned anything, but he will deal with chicken.  Tuna is unacceptable.  Hold on to that nugget of info, mmmkay.

After picking every last ever-loving piece of “chicken” out of the quesadilla and sneaking it to the pups Tim finally got the nerve to dig through the trash can and find the evidence.

I had fed him Chicken of the Sea.

Where is my girl Jessica Simpson when I need her.  Come on, someone back me up here.  I mean I did make dinner after sipping on the syrup and that will get you every time.  Apparently, Chicken of the Sea = tuna.  Fail.

It just adds to the growing list of why I am not wife material. The list.

1.  I wait until I only have one shirt hanging in my closet to do laundry.

2.  Dusting is an urban legend in this house.

3.  I always make myself a drink before I make Tim’s.

4.  My craft projects often take over the whole living room floor.

5.  Most of our dinners come from the freezer.

6.  I take foot massages, not give them.

7.  I am really good at ignoring dishes.

8.  I don’t always shave my legs, which means hardly ever.

8 1/2.  I get very fussy for about a quarter of the month.

9.  You ever seen a hangry girl?  They got nothing on me.

10.  I can never remember anniversaries, or birthdays, or Mondays.

11.  The last time I sewed, I lost.

12.  I hate worms, which rules out gardening.

13.  Coupons and I don’t get along, much less save money.

14.  I would rather travel than save for retirement.

15.  My idea of romance is a night of Duck Dynasty.

16.  I’m stubborn, insanely stubborn.

17.  Sometimes my jokes are mean, I admit it.

18.  I like to poke, pinch, and tickle.

19.  I can’t keep a plant alive.

20.  I apparently can not cook.  At all.

That list makes me sound pretty disgusting.  I promise we don’t live in filth.  We usually have at least one person over a week, which evokes a mad-dash-cleaning-spree.  I do shower, occasionally.  I try to feed veggies and luckily, I can make him laugh.

Have you ever fed someone something they hated secretly on accident?
Think you are not wife material as well?
Have a maid that wants to come do our laundry and dust?