Yes, wife?
Remember that time when my sister and I slaved away in the kitchen working on a delicious New Year's treat for the whole family to enjoy. I minced onions and my sister grated cheese. I separated eggs whites and she fluffed them. We sauteed and stirred and coated and preheated in an attempt to make the most magnificent, calorie rich cheese puffs. Ever.
Yes. They smelled awesome.
And remember how I had just turned the oven on broil to put the finishing touch on said treat when my sister called me into the living room because it was my turn on Mario Kart.
Yes. I encouraged you to go because, well, you suck at Mario Kart and I felt you could use the practice.
And remember how you said in your macho I'm-a-man-so-I-can-totally-handle-anything voice that you would keep an eye on them and practically pushed me out of the kitchen.
Yes. I'm macho.
And remember how I made you promise that you wouldn't take your eye off them even for a second because they just needed to brown and get all deliciously crispy and that they were broiling on high and could burn in an instant.
Yes. But everyone has their own opinion on what "brown and deliciously crispy" means.
And remember how you snuck out of the kitchen all stealth-like to go chat it up with the boys in the office and you got to talking about an impending storm front and coyote pelts and shotgun shells and other ridiculous boy nonsense and before you knew it 20 minutes had past.
Yes. I'm stealth-like.
And remember how fast you ran when my sister said she smelled smoke.
Yes. I did play a little football in high school.
And remember how that smoke billowed out into the house and even with every fan/vent/air circulation method on full blast our eyes still stung for hours.
Yes. Good thing I got that fire extinguisher handy in the garage. I was an Eagle Scout you know so the "Be Prepared" motto never dies.
And remember how mouth watering those cheese puffs looked after being flambeed. Hungry? Cause we've got a few left over.
Yes. I'm not picky like you wife. I'll eat anything.
Anything? Really?
Here's to a raging 2010.ps. This is what an un-scorched cheese puff looks like:
9 comments:
Those are not cheese puffs....those are charcoal briquettes! Hilarious, but probably since it didn't happen at my house. Broiling is a delicate thing and must be taken seriously!
Brilliant post! I am devastated for you but I do think your thighs are very happy! Bad bad Mark. This is pretty funny though!
oh, my. that does suck a thousand times. how many years have you been married? apparently not enough to know better. shame on you. my taste buds are swearing at you.
so, you sacificed perfected cheese puffs for a game of mario kart. in which, most likely, you lost? again, shame shame shame on you.
I have never had cheese puffs so I am not sure what they are suppose to look like. Your hubby's cheese puffs look like lava rocks!! Did you make more cheese puffs or did that go out the window with the smoke? Happy new year!
I don't know what cheese puffs are, either, but am pretty sure you're being sarcastic by the looks of them.
At least you made a memory!
Great post! That was funny. Sorry about the cheese puffs. I stick to sausage balls.....they don't burn as easily. Happy New Year!
Oh my, oh my! Those are some serious puffs...of charcoal!! I'm sure it was not so funny when it happened, but I love that you posted about it!
Happy New Year!!
Mmm...Tasty!
He should have been a fire fighter.
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