My Own Cooking Show

I bartend a lot of mornings during the week.  There are three televisions in the bar, and even though they are turned off every single night, some mysterious person has turned them back on before I get there in the morning.  Since it's early and I am way to tired and lazy to try and get the remote to work, I am stuck watching whatever they have turned on.
One particular morning this past week the choice was the food network.  For the entirety of the six hours I was there that morning, it was one good-looking woman teaching me "How to Cook A Great Dinner in Less Than 30 Minutes" or "A Tasty Dinner for Less Than $15" after another.  By my third hour of Rachael Ray or Paula Dean, I was extremely irked for many reasons.
Every single woman was in a kitchen that looks like it came from a "Better Homes" article.  They were all dreamy.  No matter how well I can cook, it won't look the same just because my cupboards happen to be fake wood.  If I did work in something that beautiful, I wouldn't need to worry about only spending $15 on dinner.
On that note, each kitchen I saw was unbelievably clean.  Where are the breakfast bowls and coffee stains?  Do you think these ladies wash their own dishes?  I kind of doubt it.  My kitchen is still a mess from the meal I cooked two nights ago.
My third complaint is that everything looks so easy! (And I guess it would be if all the food was pre-prepared for you.)  A few nights ago I cooked monterey chicken, an idea I stole from work.  The chicken is in the oven, and I'm trying to fry the bacon and cook the pasta at the same time.  The bacon is steaming and fizzing like crazy, making our small apartment look like the inside of an angry storm cloud.  My husband is quite literally running around waving a towel, attempting to push all the steam out the window so our over-reactive fire alarm doesn't freak.  Just to spite us, (and to make my husband exercise more), it does.  This makes the dog howl.  This makes me yell at the dog, diving past my husband who is trying to run and wave faster.
At the same time my pasta is going crazy.  I'm so busy trying to shut Rudy up that I don't notice when the water/milk/butter combination boils over.  When I do see it, there's gunk covering the stove.
Ever seen something like that in a TV cooking episode that wasn't called "America's Worst Cook?"
Speaking of my animated little beagle, none of those cooks in the TV shows have dogs!  I read something today that says there are 73 MILLION owned dogs in the US today, and each of those dogs are extremely in tune with their master's meal times.  Like Barron says, beagles work for food.  Even when I'm threatening him with a knife.  There is no wrath like a dog begging for table scraps.
While Rudy, like any other canine,  goes gaga for all meat products, his obsession is apples and bananas.  He has a special sense to apples coming out of the fridge and onto a cutting board.  When he begs for meat he looks ravenous, but when he begs for fruits he looks innocent and sweet, as if he is saying "But mom, they're so good for me!"  I must say, when it comes to colorful snacks he always gets his way.  I hope our kids are as into eating healthy as he is.
Maybe I'll sell a cooking show idea to Food Network.  Me in my small two-bedroom apartment kitchen, with so little storage we use a closet as a pantry.  Regular topics would be "How to Keep Your Dog From Licking Your Breasts," (chicken breasts, you dirty you), and "Your Husband Will Still Love You Even If You Burn the Place Down."
Ahhh what a dream.  But until that day comes along, we're going to keep the fire station on speed dial.