On potluck testing and Tee Vee Pee

And winning friends with cardboard pizza

Once upon a time dear reader, in university days, there were these things, horrible social encounters.

I’m not so sure that encounters is the correct term. Let’s call them tests.

Not as serious as an exam, nor extensive as a term paper, these tests were telling and memorable to all involved.

These tests dear reader, were called potlucks.

For me, potluck means finding a half smoked joint in a corner of a shed somewhere after hurting my back moving stuff.

In that situation, I’m lucky to have found a gift from my past when the present calls for it.

But a potluck?

Potlucks provided grounds for status games around taste, knowledge of odd and unpalatable ingredients, crackpot theories about health and serve as a breeding ground for veganism.

Let’s just be clear. The dude who could cook was always surrounded by ladies. At theatre school Frank was a great cook. The women adored him for it. And that smarmy bastard? Well, he had his way with most of them. They say the way to a man’s heart is through h…