Third floor common room, Friday after classes

[notmyownage]

"HELLO!" Claudia greeted her non-existent internet audience. "Today on my drunk kitchen, we're going to make . . . meatballs." She nodded seriously, pouring herself a finger of apple cider.

It was nonalcoholic cider, but she wasn't about to let that stop her.

"The firsht thing you need to know about makin' meatballs is that they're made of meat." She nodded firmly, gesturing with her glass of cider. "The second thing is . . . what was . . . they're ball-shaped. I conshidered making salad, but thass not -- it doesn't take any kitcheninginginging. Ing."

Oh, this would go well.

[ooc: Open! Starring Claudia as Hannah Hart of My Drunk Kitchen fame. Only sans icon because I didn't think of this until after I got to work. Come watch her antics! And maybe keep her from burning anything down!]

Comments

[exactlyaverage.livejournal.com]

"Hey Claudia," Jack called out cheerfully as he walked into the room and grabbed the remote. "What's the good word for today?"

[notmyownage]

"The word of the day!" Claudia said, lifting her glass in greeting. "The word of the --" she turned back to her nonexistent web audience. "Do we have words of the day? I don't think we do."

This bit was so going on her little outtake opening thing.

"Jack!" she said, a bit belatedly. "We're makin' meatballs!"

[exactlyaverage.livejournal.com]

Jack paused a minute to look back at Claudia with a baffled expression. "We're making meatballs? As in you and me or are you just referring to yourself in the third person for giggles?"

[notmyownage]

"It's a collective we," Claudia completely failed to explain. "Me an' my audience." She gestured to the imaginary internet audience. "You can help though!" She turned back to the imaginary audience. "This is Jack! He's going to get us our first ingredient, which is meat."

In her mind's eye, this was the point where the video would briefly pause and white text would appear above her head reading "1. Meat."

[exactlyaverage.livejournal.com]

Jack looked over to the collective and imaginary audience and then back at Claudia.

"Maybe someone from your studio audience can get it for you?" he suggested.

Mostly to see how far this delusion was going.

[notmyownage]

Claudia snickered, managing to slosh some of her cider out of her cup as she swayed. "We don't have a studio, silly. This is the internet."

[exactlyaverage.livejournal.com]

"... Are you drunk?" Jack asked looking amused. "Because WOW. There is so not any internet here."

[notmyownage]

"Am I drunk." Claudia shot her internet audience a can you believe this guy? kind of face and finished off her glass of cider, then poured another. "Step two in makin' meatballsss," she said. "Find a better assisstant."

[exactlyaverage.livejournal.com]

"Hey!" Jack protested "I'm a-"

...

"Why am I even arguing with her?" Jack said mostly to himself. "Fine, Claudia. Where's the meat you want to ball up?"

...

"That sounded dirtier than I intended."

[notmyownage]

"Nah, that's totally cool," Claudia told him. "The innnernet likes it dirty."

She scratched her head with the hand holding the glass. "I think maybe there's some in th' fridge?" She turned back to her audience. "Step three in making meatballs is remembering to make sure you have ingredients."

And yes, the video would totally then pause to show the following text:

"1. Meat.
2. Get a better assistant.
3. Make sure you have ingredients."

[exactlyaverage.livejournal.com]

"Should you really be drinking right now while cooking?" Jack asked.

[notmyownage]

"The question is," Claudia corrected, "should I be cooking while I'm drinking?"

That was why she needed an assistant, really.

"Relaaaaaaaax, I do this alla time. And I barely never burn anything that isn't food."

[exactlyaverage.livejournal.com]

"Which is really making me look forward to the meatballs," Jack commented as he pulled out a package of ground beef from the fridge. "This good?"

[showmetheproof.livejournal.com]

Scully was, for once, peeking out of her room, and determined to meet a few new people.

Friends worked too, though. "Claudia. What are you making?"

[notmyownage]

"Meatballs!" Claudia answered, striking a muscle-woman pose with her spatula at her imaginary audience. "Oh look!" She told said audience. "It's our buddy, Scully!"

In Claudia's mind, this was accompanied on the video by a little caption saying

Dana Scully
Doctor, scientist, professional redhead.
Secretly old.

"Say hi, Scully!"

[showmetheproof.livejournal.com]

"...hi?" Scully gave Claudia a questioning look, then looked in the direction she'd been talking toward. Nobody there. The caption, if there'd been one, might have added, Frequently weirded out.

[notmyownage]

Please, the imaginary internet audience could figure that part out for themselves.

Claudia stopped waving at the camera and took another drink of her cider.

"Another important step in making meatballs," she told the audience, "is not to get sidetracked laughing at how often you're saying 'balls'."

[showmetheproof.livejournal.com]

"What's in that cup?" Scully asked, then wandered over to peer around in the 'audience' area to see if there was a camera, or hiding gremlins, or a squirrel helping Claudia here.

[notmyownage]

No cameras, gremlins, or squirrels, but Claudia did have a bite mark on her hand.

She looked down into her glass. "Apparently it's cider." She hiccuped. "Would you like to make some meeeeeatballs with me?"

[showmetheproof.livejournal.com]

Scully headed back to the counter and said, "Sure. Pour me some cider, please?" Oh, wait. Hello, bite-mark. "Did one of the cooking implements attack you there?"

[notmyownage]

"Where?" Claudia turned in a full circle, looking for the location of the cooking implement attack. When she finished the turn, she refilled her glass and handed it off to Scully, then found an empty pickle jar, filled it up, and took a big sip. "This is what we like to call . . . drinkin' from a pickle jar." She held up her jar to the imaginary audience. "It is especially popular among those of us who cannot afford big fancy kitchens with many glasses."

[showmetheproof.livejournal.com]

Scully... was blinking. And trying very hard not to laugh. She had no idea what was supposed to be going on here, but did it make her a bad friend that she thought it was hilarious? Probably.

"'Sanitary' of course, doesn't enter into it."

[notmyownage]

Well, My Drunk Kitchen was a comedy show.

"And then," Claudia said, ignoring Scully's peanut gallery commentary. "And then when all the stuff is . . . stuffed -- smooshed together, then you make little bitty balls out of it." She set down her pickle jar and reached into her bowl o' ingredients. "It's all gooey," she noted. "Smoosh smoosh smoosh."

[showmetheproof.livejournal.com]

Scully looked around for a baking sheet, then leaned closer to the ingredients. "What did you put in there? It smells like hot sauce?"

[notmyownage]

"And grape jelly!" Claudia said proudly. She held up her hands, the meat/hot sauce/jelly combo dripping through her fingers. "I think it needs more egg. Or bread crumbs?"