fire

Daily anti-joke: kskristy style

I set the oven mitt on fire again today.

You’d've thought I’d learned my lesson after the great muffin disaster… yeah, not so much.

Somebody send me back to kindergarten, or cooking 101, or wherever it is that they teach you how to not set kitchen accessories on fire.

Please.

The structural integrity of my house depends on it.

 

But do y’all know what’s better than setting an oven mitt on fire?

 

A beautiful sunset picture.

And that was your daily anti-joke: kskristy style.

For those of you who are completely confounded and confused, perplexed and puzzled, let me explain. An anti-joke is is a type of comedy in which the listener is set up to expect a typical joke, but the joke ends with such anticlimax that it becomes funny in its own right. The lack of punchline is the punchline.

I’m sorry. I really think anti-jokes are corny. But certain friends of mine have had a negative influence on me and fill my life with anti-jokes on a regular basis.

If you’re reading this, you know who you are.

And y’all better enjoy this one moment of glory because I will never tell an anti-joke again.

Amen.

Instead, I’m going to work on finding a 12-step program that helps people who suffer from destructive behaviors like repetitively igniting oven mitts.

Wish me luck.

Muffin disaster

So the whole photo-a-day for the next 365 days thing that I started earlier this month is now a total flop.

I think I made it seven days before I gave up.

But I knew that would happen. And I even told y’all that it would happen. So no one’s disappointed, right? Okay, good. Moving on. (My pictures now would just be of classrooms and textbooks anyway. Can you say bor-ring?)

I do have another iPhone photo for y’all though. A photo and a story involving muffins and fire.

 

This is my multitasking, multi-talented friend. As you can see, she is stirring two bowls of muffin mix at one time.

Be impressed.

She was quickly throwing together some muffins for a breakfast-for-dinner party we were going to last night. And me, being my always-ready-to-help self assisted her in putting said muffins in the oven.

So far, so good. Baking muffins is not hard.

Or so you would think.

But just leave it up to me and I will find a sure-fire way to make everything difficult. It’s a problem.

Fast-forward about ten minutes to when my friend asked me to check the muffins and pull them out of the oven. And here’s where things get messy (literally).

For some cotton-pickin’ reason the muffin tins were on the middle rack with the top rack practically sitting right on top of them. Anybody seeing a problem yet?

I grabbed a hot pad and began to pull the muffin tins out of the oven. Somewhere in the two and a half seconds it takes to pull muffins out of the oven I forgot about the inconveniently located top rack and rammed the soft and delicate muffins into multiple bars of hot, angry metal.

Boo.

I was so distressed about the muffins that I dropped the hot pad… onto the oven coil, of course, and didn’t realize that it caught on fire.

That’s right. I set the hot pad on fire.

All of a sudden the kitchen was smoky, things started smelling bad and people were yelling at me, “Hey Kristy. The hot pad’s on fire!”

Say what? Oh shoot, the hot pad’s on fire.

I’m pretty quick on the uptake. Just sayin’.

So I dropped the muffins, grabbed the fiery inferno hot pad and started beating it against the kitchen cabinet.

The fire went out. We turned on the vent. The smoke alarm didn’t go off (thank goodness) and everything was fine.

Well, except the muffins.

I had successfully decapitated them.

But my friend and I threw them in a Tupperware container (ok, maybe not threw. We were gentle. Those muffins had been through a lot at that point.) and went to our brinner party.

We ate, we drank and were merry. And I learned to always put muffins on the top rack. And not to drop hot pads on oven coils.

Evidently I didn’t learn those lessons the first time when I was five like a normal child.

But what about me has ever been normal?

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