Hump Day Kick Start – Kitchen Edition

Song of the Day: Ex-Girlfriend by No Doubt

Hump Day Kick Start – for your muse, a writing picture prompt, or just a visual treat.

kitchen love

Take break from your Thanksgiving preparations for a little kitchen fling.

Who is our couple? Newlyweds? Old friends rekindling suppressed feelings? For him, would she be just another conquest ? Is she desperately trying to get him to stay by making him breakfast? Take notice of the details: his leather wristband, the running water, the fact he’s wearing a towel, his initial tattoo. Why are they smiling? Did they  find an epic recipe on Pinterest? Are they rejoicing that the  in-laws can’t make it to dinner? Could they be whipping up a poison to get rid of their spouses? Maybe she’s stirring up a chocolate body paint for dessert. Yum!

What’s your take? Love to hear what you can cook up.

10 Responses to Hump Day Kick Start – Kitchen Edition

  1. jbrayweber says:

    Thanks, Ella!


  2. jeff7salter says:

    What a lovely image to wake to — breakfast with a gorgeous girl. Thanks, Jenn for some suitable eye candy. Too bad that guy can’t cover his tan line and the odd tattoo.
    Okay, here’s Linda’s story:

    The network had warned Linda if her cooking show didn’t achieve dramatically higher ratings very quickly, that she’d be tossed and they’d replace her time slot with yet another iteration of “less-than-funny-home videos”.
    So Linda and her producer (Gail) got their heads together and came up with a show guaranteed to attract both women and men. And the buzz would be immediate.
    All Linda had to do was prepare her meals in lingerie. All Gail had to do was go thru the audience and find the hottest guys, conduct a quick interview to eliminate the pervs, run the finalists through the shower and wardrobe dept, and then let Linda select the winner for that day’s taping.
    Today it was Franco.
    The meal was tossed salad, but Franco didn’t care.
    Linda was radiant in her barely-there-two-piece-whatever.
    The studio audience loved it when Linda “accidentally” smeared salad dressing all over Franco’s chest.
    The viewers tuned in by the thousands.
    And Linda wore less and less in each show.
    Finally Gail drew the line at letting Linda do any deep frying in a thong.


  3. jbrayweber says:

    HA! Deep frying in a thong could be painful. Maybe Linda is up for a little sizzle. Will there be any “basting” involved?

    You’re welcome, Jeff. 😉


  4. Sarah Andre says:

    MMM! Now that’s my idea of cooking Thanksgiving dinner.
    Off to pick up ‘The Boyz’ from puppy playschool and will devote all afternoon to a fun story. One that will make you THANKFUL when it’s over (snort.)


  5. jbrayweber says:

    *chuckles as she rolls her eyes*


  6. Sarah Andre says:

    Love Jeff’s! Very creative. I will steal his hero’s name.

    Here’s what really happened.
    We’re at the same restaurant as my post 2 weeks ago, the one just outside Milan (er… Giovanni’s? I pay no attn to these stories.) It’s now a bustling place where the famous and beautiful clamor for reservations months in advance.

    Franco Gallo is the restaurant dishwasher, even though he knows he could probably be a lucrative bartender in another place–what with his looks and all. But Giovanni’s hostess, Marina Bella is recently divorced and men are swarming. Confidently, he bides his time.

    Inwardly Marina is fed up with men and filled with bitterness. These clods lining up with their shallow compliments make her skin crawl. But being Italian AND breathtaking, she must smile and laugh and dance each night away after closing the restaurant. You see, it’s written in their laws from Constantine’s time that beautiful women are not allowed to sit home eating cannoli’s and wearing sweatpants. So (sigh) she dates. What interests her though, is the quiet dishwasher guy, who she only sees when he helps the busboys clear the tables at the very end of the evening. He’s probably like all these other vermin though, so she only nods politely and goes back to studying the next night’s reservations.

    Now Franco has noticed her noticing him. One night he dries his hands and waves a busboy over. Paying him 5 Euro (almost half his nights pay!) he has the busboy slip her a white rose and anonymous note that says: “White is for purity, fresh fallen snow and your dazzling smile.”

    Marina expects the mystery man to reveal himself and want to strip her down, as is typical of these cloddish men. (See? Bitter.) But no one comes over and the busboy only shrugs when she asks him.

    The next night a yellow rose lays on her podium when she returns from the restroom after closing time. The note says: “Yellow is for warm sunshine, butter melting on a fresh, steaming roll and your lovely hair.”

    The third night she finds herself seating customers restlessly, scanning the room to see if someone makes a prolonged (it’s Italy, I mean MORE prolonged than regular prolonged) gaze of desire. Alas, no man reveals himself as the mysterious romantic and thoughtful writer of that note. She suddenly realizes it’s refreshing to be wooed not chased.

    After closing there still is no note. As she studies the next evening’s reservations she finds herself inexplicably sad. Just when she began to have faith in…well, not men…but one particular mystery man. He must have lost interest and now she will never know who it was.

    It’s time to lock the front doors and (sigh) go dance the night away. Damn law! She pops her head into the kitchen and says goodbye to the handsome dishwasher, who is alone and vigorously scrubbing a large round pot. There on the counter beside him is a spectacular red rose.

    Her mouth pops open. Her adorable, romantic mystery man is not one of the beautiful and famous who swarm her. It’s the poor dishwasher who toils away deep into the night. And she has never even bothered to find out this man’s name!

    Her astonishment makes her shy, but he turns from the sink, and winks, nodding her over to the rose. She picks up the flower and reads the note with trembling fingers. “Red is for passion, fresh summer tomatoes and the anger inside you.”

    This startles her because she’s gone to great lengths to hide her bitterness. “How did you know?” she asks.

    “I looked past your beauty,” he replied simply. “I have fallen in love with who you are inside.”

    Unable to speak she glances around. The kitchen is spotless, the pots, pans, plates and glasses are gleaming. When he finishes with that large pasta pot in the sink he will leave. She thanks him for the roses graciously and twirls around the kitchen, explaining she’s going to make him her decadent molten brownie with whip cream. Only she uses as many pots and pans as she can. Flour is everywhere, only half the eggs have made it into her recipe, the others are making the floor slippery. She’s unsure how the oven works and inadvertently fires up the pizza oven. In the excessive heat pieces of clothing are removed as they talk and laugh and flirt. He happily cleans as fast as she makes a mess.

    And this picture is their light, playful romp, when she sits at the edge of his sink in her lingerie whipping what should be whipped cream, but it’s not going well. Neither care.

    “Why did you not ask me out like all the other men?” she asks.

    “Then I would BE like all the other men. You would not have seen the me that’s inside, a romantic who cares deeply for you.”

    “Well, why not sign the notes instead of remaining anonymous?”

    “I did,” he said, and slipped his boxers down a fraction. “My name is Franco but everyone around here knows me as Fresh.”

    “I’m not following.”

    “Each note I wrote to you had the word ‘fresh’ in it. Technically I signed every one.”

    😉 Happy Thanksgiving y’all!


  7. jbrayweber says:

    O.M.G. That was beautiful, Sarah, and so clever! I absolutely love this one. Perfect, I’d say. And I couldn’t help but laugh at Constantine’s law. Brilliant!
    Happy Thanksgiving!


  8. jeff7salter says:

    Sarah wins another round…


  9. jbrayweber says:

    She’s on fire!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: