Thursday, October 6, 2011

A Visit From the Burn Fairy

Confession: I hate cooking. It's not that I can't; I just hate doing it. I hate refuse to touch raw meat, I hate seeing all the junk that goes into the finished product (because sometimes, I don't like the ingredients by themselves), it's messy (which may be the worst thing about it), it's time consuming, it's just...ick.

I realize that if you read the last post about me being a hair idiot, this anti-cooking post really makes me look like the poster child for this housewife gig I'm doing. But I'm going to tell my story, anyway, so just stay with me, okay? 

Since we'll be in visiting my parentals over the weekend, we're having pizza tonight to ensure that there are no leftovers (or a smelly 'fridge/kitchen) when we get back. I go to put the pizza in the oven, and I realize that all the pepperonis have fallen off in the package, so I lovingly arranged them back into a perfect swirly pattern before sticking the pizza in the oven. These pizzas are pretty small, so I planned to cook two (I can eat the teensy amount of anticipated leftovers for lunch tomorrow...huzzah!). I got the first one out of the oven and started to put the second in. I get this bright idea to arrange the pepperonis in the shape of a heart for J (aren't I just the sweetest little thing?). I do so, pop the pizza in the oven, and wait.

The timer dings and I rush to get it out before it burns. I don my trusty oven mitts and reach into the oven.... aaccckkk! The top of my forearm touched the oven wall.

Thought I was gonna die. 

OK, maybe that a bit of an exaggeration. But I burned my fingers on a hot glue gun a couple weeks ago and thought I was going to need new fingerprints. This is worse. I mean, seriously, it's still hurting. (And yeah, I'm milking this injury for all it's worth...thanks for asking.)

My mom told me there's an invention called an oven mitt that I might consider using (I get my humor from her; can you tell?). I told her I did use them, but that they don't go all the way to my elbows! I decided I need an oven cape, which would go well with my super-power of being a dork 24/7. She suggested I get a wear-able fire blanket...a fire snuggie, if you will. I think that's a fantastic idea.

In case you're wondering about my health, I have a welt on my arm that J immediately noticed upon entering the room. I always thought I'd be a person who obtained really cool scars. Instead, I have one from the chicken pox and now one from sticking my friggin' arm in the oven to get a heart pizza. Super cool. whatevah Anyway, here's a picture of my poor widdle arm:

It may not look like much in the picture, but I assure you: it's noticeable. J thinks it looks like I got into a knife fight. MUCH cooler story than the actual one, don't you think?

So in case you're wondering what I could possibly want for Christmas (there are a mere 80 shopping days left, people!), here it is: a flame-retardant snuggie for me, the Domestic Diva. I prefer leopard print, please.

FYI: the heart pizza turned out well! Need proof?

Even through injury and pain, I still love you, J! :)

1 love notes:

Nostalgic Dreams said...

OMG we are soooooooooo twinkies! I had burned the same spot on my right arm taking the MONDO turkey out of the oven last Thanksgiving (got the same talk as your mom gave you about the oven mitt situation, tyvm). And...the hot glue gun made me almost have to get another passport application since my fingertips were almost fried off about two months ago. Wow! Um, Cuz? Can we hold off on the future body pain issues in the future please? lol Thanks!