CULTURE CLASH: Some people just can't cut it in the kitchen

Perkins: This weekend, I turned the big 2-5. My mom has this tradition of making a poster for me on my birthday and displaying it in the living room. This year, she included a picture of me on my second birthday playing with a Playskool kitchen. Apparently, it was my favorite present. Now, I loathe the kitchen. I’m not a talented cook, I’m a lazy cook. I don’t know where things went wrong. Now that I’m a quarter-century old, I should probably conquer the daunting task of preparing a meal or two.

Meo: Well, you are part of the “Laziest Generation,” so, can I blame you? I enjoy cooking, but my menu is so limited, by sight, by smell, by whimsy. I cook only a few basic things, but I like to think I do them well. Of course, I’m sure my desire to cook at home is counterproductive to local businesses in these tough economic times, sue me. I don’t cheap-out on tips for service or delivery, but that doesn’t mean I like giving them when that money could go somewhere else.

Perkins: My excuses are being lazy and busy. I work all day and go to school at night. I eat on the go like most people. Plus, mom is a super cook. I think it’s going to take me being on my own to fend for myself. It happened in college. Sometimes. On the weekends eating is a social thing — even in these tough times, I like to go out for the atmosphere and accessibility. What’s your signature dish? Perhaps I can borrow the recipe.

Meo: I try not to write on any of my meals ... Nothing? Oh well, I like kabobs — chicken or steak — big salads and burgers. I could live on burgers of all shapes and sizes, but probably not for very long. Chop a little red onion and bacon and mix it with fresh ground beef, it’s fantastic. Add some tomato slices, lettuce, cheese, peppers, mustard, ketchup ... Mmmm. I’m not saying eating out isn’t fun, but I rarely have a pleasant digestive experience, no matter what I eat. It’s always too much or too little. I’m nearly impossible to please. It also depends where I eat. At home, it’s not so much. Here at the office, a whole pizza won’t make a dent, until it does. Bleh.

Perkins: Sounds exhausting. I’m on the lookout for a Bobby Flay-type to befriend. As sad as it sounds, and as wrong as it is to admit this, I’m that girl who burns toast. Half the time I forget about it. I never know what settings to use. I can handle maybe three steps. My family gives me grief about my lack of skills all the time. I get assigned to setting the table or pouring the chips into a bowl. Considering the dissolution of certain gender expectations in my “generation,” I don’t feel the need to get my Betty Crocker on.

Meo: Cooking is a hassle, but it is rewarding. I mother-hen people when it comes to eating, which I get from my mom. Thanks mom! But she’s also a great host. Maybe I got a little of that, too? Probably not. If I cook, you better be at the table. You aren’t? Why not? Sit down. I will get what you need. Is it cooked enough? Is it cooked too much? Is there enough? I said sit down. It’s a pretty awful, compulsion and I’m not working on it. My kitchen, my dining room, my rules. I doubt you would even get chip duty at my place.

Emily Perkins is the editorial assistant at the Norwich Bulletin. She can’t cook but she can dance, write with her feet and speak German. John Meo is design editor at the Norwich Bulletin. If it comes out of the ocean, it ain’t goin’ in his stomach. Except tuna, but everyone knows tuna comes from a can.

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Culture Clash: Summer’s great, but we could do without carnivals, fairs

Perkins: This gloomy June weather is getting in the way of some of my favorite summer staples. Time’s a’wasting. I want to enjoy the beach, outdoor burger joints, my lousy tennis game and the list goes on. I love summer, but not everything that accompanies it. Circuses, fairs and those rickety makeshift parking lot carnivals are not for me. Are you a summertime kind of guy, Meo?

Meo: Oh yeah. I’m generally against the trappings of summer ... giant shorts, flip-flops, sandals ... But I’ll take a nice coating of sweat and sand over goosebumps and layers of cotton and leather any day. I even have a riding mower, so summer chores are almost fun. I just can’t seem to shake my cadaverous skin tone. I go from a morgue-like, boiled chicken color to roasted tomato in a heartbeat. Not cool.

Perkins: Sandals, the smell of sunscreen, barbecues, hammocks and lemonade are all great. When I was a kid, my friends and I would beg our moms to bring us to the local carnival that popped up in town in the middle of the summer. My mom would always fight me on it. It was a waste of money, the food was greasy, the rides weren’t safe and the employees looked like the pirates of the Caribbean. I always walked away with extra tickets, a seahorse full of colored sand and a stomach ache. Carnivals, fairs and circus entertainment dominate Eastern Connecticut June through September. I’m vowing to stay away from the hoopla this year.

Meo: I don’t need a vow. Avoiding carnivals is like breathing for me. I know those things are supposed to be fun, but even from the outside, they look — what’s the word? — infectious. I don’t find the food appealing, just expensive, and the rides ... I know I’ll die someday, despite my preference to the contrary. I’d rather have a standard obituary, instead of a brief in the bizarre news section of CNN that starts with “John Meo of blah blah blah was killed in a tragic Tilt-A-Whirl accident. John landed headfirst in a nearby cotton candy maker.” Not exactly the stuff of legend. Plus, carnies handling my Earthly remains is just weird.

Perkins: It shouldn’t be too hard to stay away as long as my sister doesn’t try to suck me in or the smell of fried dough doesn’t call my name during a drive by — who can resist fried dough? (Ed.’s note: John can). Clowns and balloons are probably two of the most frightening components of these tented spectacles, not to mention the stench of manure and hay. Plus, who pays $5 to see the World’s Funniest Mule?

Meo: Depends what jokes the mule is telling. Is it observational comedy? Is the mule a prop comic? I don’t do prop comedy. Ventriloquism is OK in small doses. The thing about fried dough is, it’s repulsive, no matter how much powdered sugar you heap upon it. Clowns are abominations, and should be outlawed. Clowns and politicians. I don’t have anything against balloons, but balloon animals ...

Perkins: Monkeys are funny. Mules, not so much. Elephants in bedazzled vests are hardly entertaining. And what is with those games that are nearly impossible to win? Throwing a ring around the neck of a milk bottle shouldn’t be that hard. And if all you’re going to give me when I win is a giant, stuffed Pokemon, I’ll pass. I sense fanmail coming my way.

Meo: Nah. You’d get fan mail if you suggested poking elephants with shock rods was fun. Which you didn’t. Or firing tiger cubs out of cannons into vats of babies. Possible fan mail for that. Or maybe vice versa. Babies out of cannons into vats of tigers. The games are pretty stupid though. Toss this football-size football through this baseball-size hole. One try for $2! Oh, so close sir! Care to try again? For the plastic, possibly lead-filled, definitely spontaneously combustible purple Teddy bear of questionable origin? You bet!

Perkins: Yes, I guess I could be clear. I do not support elephant poking or feeding babies to tigers or funny donkeys or rigged games. Carnivals and fairs are not for me. The sun better come out soon so I can take up water sports and daycations, while sporting my madras shorts and flippy-floppies.

Emily Perkins is the editorial assistant at the Norwich Bulletin. Yes, globophobia is a real affliction. Google it. John Meo is design editor at the Norwich Bulletin. He has no idea what “madras” means, but is pretty sure he doesn’t own one.

Culture Clash: ‘Housewives’ shenanigans an addictive brew, no matter where

Meo: Hey Perkins, I know you’re a slave to reality TV, so, maybe you can answer this question? How many “Housewives” shows are there?

Perkins: By now, there is one in almost every major city. Rumor has it there is going to be one in Washington D.C., sans Michelle Obama. Though my allegiance will always be to the blonde, blingy, leathery Orange County wives, I’m intrigued by these teased, tan, smack-talking Jersey girls. Oh the drama. As a native of New Jersey, I’m sure you take offense to this cliched representation of the Garden State.

Meo: Yeah, I’m offended. Like “The Sopranos” offended me. Please. Facts are never offensive. The one woman I saw in an interview looks like Eva Longoria, if her face had been removed, beaten on a rock, sun-baked in Death Valley and stretched over a research cadaver’s skull. What do these people do and how did they get on TV?

Perkins: That’s a pretty accurate description. These women do nothing. They rear dopey children, keep up their appearances and cook for their greasy, money grubbing husbands. In return, they get to build their dream homes and buy things with big wads of cash. It’s the American dream, Jersey-style. I never want to be a housewife; but I sure do like to watch these materialistic mommies do their thing.

Meo: I doubt I could dumb myself down enough to watch, but I love that Jersey finally got one of these shows. That is a pretty sweet deal. I have a full barrel of insults I want to pour on them, but maybe, despite being the scum of the universe, they are the smart ones. They have the TV show, they have the cars, the houses, the money and the notoriety. Yup, I’m the fool.

Perkins: Oh it’s a trainwreck all right; but ratings gold. If you decide you can’t not watch — I suggest holding out until the reunion special for a recap of the season. Although, I don’t think the New Jersey wives will be as scandalous as the Atlanta ones, the season will bring more drama than the Orange County crew and maybe even the New York socialites. Mafia connections, stage moms and polyester make good fodder for reality junkies such as myself.

Meo: Speaking of junk, MTV’s movie awards were Sunday. Teen vamp-schlock “Twilight” was the big winner. The sequel is looming. What’s your level of excitement? Be honest. Robert Pattison ... International heart throb or skinny-jean wearing putz. What are the odds Kristen Stewart invested in some acting lessons?
Perkins: I haven’t watched the MTV movie awards since my high school days. Only the music award show is worth watching for the odd one-time collaborations. I could care less about “Twilight,” Rob Pattison or the over-rated Kristen Stewart. They make me feel old. And I’m not. I don’t get the hype. And from what I hear, the “Twilight” books are garbage.

Meo: Most stuff makes me feel old, which is why I spend way too much money on games and toys and such — for the delusion of youth. In the interest of self-defense, I didn’t watch the show, although I was tempted with Andy Samberg as host. I doubt I missed anything Earth-shattering. I find it disturbing ... startling ... puzzling, that credible actors — I saw Denzell Washington in a clip, he counts right? — show up for this thing. Sacha Baron Cohen, dressed as an angel/ valkyrie kinda thing landed face first in Eminem’s lap. Em was not pleased. I’m surprised Borat didn’t get capped.

Perkins: You buy toys, I buy sunscreen. The thing about those shows is, if anything outrageous happened (like the time the Rage Against the Machine guy scaled the stage decorations), you would be able to find it mentioned on one of the many gossip grapevines. I have a short attention span. I only pay homage to those “credible actors’”during the real award season. I may have a diverse television palette, but it can be discriminating and it certainly doesn’t involve Borat.

John Meo is the design editor at the Norwich Bulletin. High five! Emily Perkins is editorial assistant. She is looking for a real househusband.