It Wasn't My Fault!!!....Well, it Kinda Was.....

     Actually, I lied a litte. It was totally my fault.
     "BURNING DOWN THE HOUSE!"
     Remember that song by the Talking Heads? That song makes me dance, in a good way. But a good way to get me dancing in a bad way is to put me in front of a grease fire! I just like the song, I really didn't mean to take it literally and set the kitchen on fire. I promise.

     It all started when we went to our friends Krystal and Justin's house for a Friday night dinner date. I brought stuffed bell peppers and sweet potato fries, but saved the finishing touches of the cooking for the last minute, to make sure everything tasted extra fresh! Since I can never leave the house without forgetting something, I left our fry-daddy behind.  Is it really true that not everyone in America owns their own grease frying machine????

     There we were, forced into improvision. It all sounded like a great idea until the grease boiling temperature rose too high, due to the lack of a regulator, and when I dropped the fries in for cooking, all hell broke loose!

     I'm having flash back memories now.

     FLASH! Smoldering grease bubbles are rising up. Up. Up. Rolling it's lethal liquid over the sides of the pan. 

     FLASH! A fimilar hand reaches out to move the pan off the glass top burner. Oh wait, I think that's my hand.

     BRIGHT FLASH! Flames ignite on top of the burner. Rising. They're at least 4 inches tall now. 

     FLASH! Everyone's running around. Some clear molten lava substence is running down the sides of the oven and on to the floor. My peripherals tell me Justin is soaking a dish cloth. I remained statued, planting my feet hard into the floor, otherwise I may run home and never return.

     TWINKLE. A tiny thought enters my brain. If I run away, never to return, then I would miss out on smores later. Guess I better stay.

     PANIC! My brother steps in front of the stove to do something. What's he doing?.......Wait!....He's pursing his lips. OH NO!! He's going to blow on the fire and it's going to spread!

     DARKNESS. No I didn't black out, or faint, or almost die. It worked. My brother, the certified Fire Fighter, blew out the fire like it was lit candles on a cake. Whew, I'm glad that's over.   

     The rest of the night was uneventful. We ate on the patio. We drank wine. We laughed, mostly at how retarded I am, and then again at how my brother fell asleep on our friend's couch (which he had never met before) at 9pm, before we even had dessert!  We sat by the fire and had a ridiculous amount of smores. They were amazing. And Krystal and Justin were amazing to even let me stay for dinner after what happened. I hope they let me come back again, but maybe next time I'll let Krystal do the cooking in her own kitchen.

     The weekend flew by faster than you can read this post. I remember waking up at the butt crack of dawn to run, carpooling to Waco with the Varenkamps, watching the most intense Baylor boys basketball game I've ever seen, hanging out with Jessica and Bobby that night, and waking up the next morning to this sweetness. Callie and Sumo are so lovey when we first show signs of life from slumber.

     Sunday morning Jessica and I made breakfast and we accidently consumed 19 of our 26 Weight Watchers points for the day! Oops. (Note to self: Waffles+syrup+bacon+eggs+girly coffee+mimosa's= too many points for one sitting) By the time Patrick and I drove home, Sunday was over. Just like that. And it's good thing, becuase I didn't have enough points to get me through a long day!
    
Have you ever started a grease fire? What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done at someone else's house?