Why I'm Not Mike Tyson

Yesterday I was in the kitchen and readying a fantastic dip for a family reunion because this is what I do to care for my family and obviously prepare to re unionize with loved ones.  

I make dips to symbolize my familial adoration.

Wish me into your family right now, go ahead.

 I'm completely comfortable in the kitchen and whip up Sam's Club Premade meals you wouldn't believe!  Seriously, I should have my own cooking show on all channels including but not limited to,  local public access.  <  All total lies.

My kids asked what a skillet was the other day.

How embarrassing! 

I had to remind those {sillies} that a SKILL-ET  was Rapunzel's weapon of choice against intruders & that if they were smurt, they'd take a lesson or two from her.

So anyways, I'm dip making with all my fabulousness.  I'm not rushing or anything ( I'm always completely and never last minute because that would be  unsafe)

In the kitchen, I'm a freak about safety.  Actually, in general I have all kinds of safety rules.

 Most of them involve yelling out the rule right before the shit hits the fan.

We don't run on concrete with skewers children!

Yep, that's why kiddos.
 Now you only have 1 eye.


It makes me feel like I've done a good job when they're bleeding and I say, "I told you so."

Because I am warped.

So I am cleaning up my mess.

 It involved Tin Cans.
Don't judge my dip.
I can feel it already.
You're judging my dip.
Snooty lil Betty Crockers.

So I gather up all the tin cans and matching lids and carefully, oh so carefully put them into a grocery bag. I don't want anyone getting cut on them now, do I?

 I then put them into the garbage can ( and as I do I faintly hear a ghostly voice saying "we don't push tin cans down into the garbage!" )

It's the ghost of safety past telling me I'm an idiot and dosing me up with some a good old taste of my own.

Because I pushed that sucker down in the can and SLICED my hand open right smart.

I'm fairly sure I fainted for a bit before I  hit the floor.   I don't do injuries.  Even ones that allow for me to say "I told you so."  Skewers in eyeballs aren't my thang.

(I tolllld you so)  I faintly heard.

 I am evidently trained as not only a chef and safety patrol, I am also a paramedic.

What did this paramedic do when I woke up from my unsafe act? 

I looked right into  THE FOLDS of my cut and saw my foot.

When I came to I screamed for DBD.  I tried to make my scream one of those screams that's separate from my normal screaming about this and that.  It was hard weeding through my file of screams and finding the one that says I THINK I CUT MY FUCKING APPENDAGE OFF MOTHER FUCKER PLEASE COME SAVE ME.

 and in the meantime, WHILE I WAITED,  I grabbed some bounty and began pinching.

I looked to DBD to help me and of course the MO FO, trained to defend our country, looks wild eyed and ready to hit the floor himself.  I KNEW he was highly trained in Navy fire safety, extinguishing TomCat jet fires-- yet couldn't figure out how to put out an effin grease fire on the stove-- yet I never thought he'd go all jelly belly legs on a cut.

I think we were both in the same paramedic class.

I get a hold of my sister.  Because Nenny knows all things.

My medical -ish sister asked if I could see any "fatty tissue." in the open cut. 


After I "came to" --- I told her there was nothin on this hard body but protein and muscle baby & hung up on her skinny ass. 


So anyways-- we stay conscious.  It's a miracle.  WE somehow bandage it up.  He is trying to get Neo To Go SPRAY , to open up like a salve.

I have to tell him that it's a SPRAY  and that the top, isn't coming off no matter how much his milk bone fingers pry at it.

So I peroxide the fold , he gets some bandages on it.

Then he says to me as he picks up some Vaseline sitting in a jar--- because he has gained his composure now that the cut is hidden.


  We shoulda put some Vaseline on your( 1/2 inch wide , 3 inch deep ) cut before we bandaged it!

Me, blinking at him. What the fuck for??

"Because that's what boxers do."

 I'm fearing for all future days when my children have skewers in their eyes & he's the only parent around.

Long story short.
I'm okay.

I'm never taking this bandage off but I'm okay.

Send me cards.

1 comment:

Nicole said...

You are too funny! I am so glad you are OK. I had a similar situation in the kitchen..I was washing dishes and a glass shattered tore open my skin and 4 stitches later I am in recovery lol I am convinced the kitchen is evil!