Randomness 2

Why do people promise you one thing and then do another? For example, a person in one of my networks says he wants me to be his graphic designer then a week or two later announces at a meeting he is getting new brochures made by another graphic designer.

Really? So what's the deal? Do I stink? Do I not laugh at your jokes enough? Maybe I laugh too much? I know my work is stellar so that can't be why. But why be just a big ol' fat flake about this? Don't ask me to join your network and then build up these promises and then not deliver. It's bull.

Yea, I'm mad about it. And it's times like these that I honestly HATE networking. I don't make promises I can't keep. I don't give people false hope. But you wouldn't believe how many people say "I'll call you tomorrow about this." Or "Oh my gosh I so totally want to do xyz" and then nothing. DON'T make promises. DON'T tell me one thing and then do nothing. STOP being a flake in business.

Well crap. I really didn't want to vent about my business on this blog but that's just part of life I guess, so whatever. Sometimes I just want to crawl up in a ball and never put myself out there. Sometimes I wish I could just be a beach bum and live in Belize or somewhere. (There's not so many hurricane there, well, actually Costa Rica would be better).

Actually, just the other day Rick and I talked about packing our stuff up and moving to South America somewhere. We even talked about learning Spanish. We are thinking of taking a class. I'm so lucky to have a man who doesn't mind putting up with my crap and my nagging. I don't mean to nag but there are about 5 days out of the month in which I do and we live through it. Rick is a great guy. Love him so much. He's the kind of guy that does not dance but will go to a dance club with friends so that I can dance. Everybody say "awww."

Speaking of friends. Went to a fantastic party at the Hemphill's. Joel cooked up some delicious brisket and sausage and frijoles. Everything was so good I could have ate all night long!! Got to sing karaoke with my singing buddies, Tamo, Mark, Wendy, Jimmy, Nikki, Maria, and dance and laugh. I love partying with these friends. They really know how to raise your spirits!!!

I love karoking. I sing Lady Gaga songs pretty darn well. At our Halloween party last year, I was dressed like Medusa. Half way through the night, I asked Joel to play three Lady Gaga songs in a row. I went upstairs and put on my Lady Gaga outfit. When the first song began playing I came down the stairs singing her song and put on a little show!! Everybody seemed to really enjoy it!! I'd so do it again. Imagine a long haired fat Gaga. LOL Oh here's a pic so you don't have to imagine it. :D

Three Friends Go to a Concert

I have been working on a very long blog about a recent trip to a concert in Oklahoma, with my two friends but honestly, I am growing weary of the story and it's longer than it should be so this is basically what happened:

Jim shared a video of Porn Star Dancing on Facebook.

Julie, Micki, and I "liked" the video Jim posted and thus began a new obsession among two of the three girls.

The video is of a SONG called Porn Star Dancing and, though it does show girls dancing like porn stars, it is R rated for the most part. The beat and sound is fantastic! I like it.

The band is from Canada, probably a huge selling point for Julie. For the life of me I can't remember this band's name and tease the girls with names like Knights of Darkness, Darkest of Ages, whatever, same thing. snicker snicker. They are aptly annoyed.

Julie discovers the band is playing at a casino in Oklahoma. Micki suggest road trip. Planning and purchasing of tickets ensue. I still don't know the name of the band but I knew enough that a girl's road trip would be phenomenal.

Friday afternoon we head out from Wylie, TX to Durant, OK in Julie's SUV. Thanks for driving, Juls!!

I still really have no idea of the name of the band, Darkness something, nor did I realize until this day that it was the first band of three, with the biggest act being at the end.

We stand for an hour and a half waiting for the band to play. This is not a seated auditorium. We complain about knee pain, foot pain and back aches. We are old. But we are HAPPY to be seeing this great band!!!

The band plays and the rocking ensues. They were frikkin fantastic!! Oh my gosh!! And Micki is hot and bothered by the lead guitarist, as is Julie and as am I. He is soooo totally rockin' hawt!!

It's as if 16 year-old energized girls entered our old and tired bodies. Shrill yelps escape from our lips and hands are thrust into the air, and booties shake. We have literally reverted back to the band-groupie-crazed-girls younger selves. Micki fawns over guitar man. Repeatedly.

Julie and Micki decide to stay for the second act. I leave. It's hot, I'm grumpy, I'm parched. I'm going to get something to drink.

Lo and behold. What has been set forth before me? But a mohawk and mascara wearing lead guitar man with tight leopard pants, all by his lonesome? Well, not for long! He obliges me by smiling and posing by my side for a photo and listens to a 44 year old women tell him just how damn sexy he is. Well, it is the truth. He is so hawt and I usually don't go for the mohawk type but there are other things to be considered. ;)

I also learn his name is not Sly, which is what I thought Micki called him, but his name is Sal. He corrected me. I blamed it on dyslexia. He politely smiled. He probably doesn't know what dyslexia is.

Later on, the girls come out of the auditorium sweaty and hot. And with great hesitation, because I know how Micki feels about Sal, I share the photo of the two of us together, cheek touching cheek.

All hell breaks loose. It is as if I took the very last piece of cake from a fat girl's birthday party cake.

They threaten to leave me at the casino and find my own ride back home. Micki offers up strapping me to the roof and then Julie graciously decides I can ride INSIDE the SUV but in the very very very back seat. That's so generous.

What started out as a great evening has come down to me possibly having to call Rick to come get me. It's a good thing this girls were partly joking. :/

They decide to walk around the casino while I'm trying to buy a dang t-shirt with bling that I ultimately didn't get because the lady screwed it up. While they were wandering around waiting on me, they found the lead singer and got their photo with him, but said "It wasn't the same."

So now the 16 year old teens have turned into 12 year old brats, moping around because I got to "touch/talk/feel/photo" Sal and they didn't. I don't know why they are so upset! Something about me not knowing the name of the band. Whatever. I'm a believer now!! Hello!

So, I walk around trying to find the lead singer so he can tell me where Sal is so I can get my girls to Sal. To no avail.

So I come back to this:

They had a really bad attitude as seen here. Yes, folks that's a Canadian extending her middle finger at one of her closest friends!

So while the girls are waiting and hoping to catch Sal and talking smack about me, I see the key board dude. He is cute but not Sal but I get my photo taken with him anyway. And I ask him where Sal is. Again, it is my mission to bring Sal to the girls.

When lo and behold!! There comes the Sal! I toss key board dude aside, call my girls and beg for a photo with Sal and my girls. He once again, politely obliges. He is Canadian, after all. A group photo of the two girls with Sal, the lead singer and key board dude is made as well as a special photo of Micki and Sal.

Micki's smile says it all. Julie even gets to share with the boys that she is from Nova Scotia. The girls are pleased.

Alicia saves the evening and no longer is fearful of not having a ride home.

The three of us, giddy as 16 year old teen girls, drive back home as happy as ever, laughing about the entire evening! Yea, it's funny, now, even the smack talk....

It is then that I look up the name of the band and learn that the band's name is: My Darkest Days. Hey, I had to find them so I could "like" then on Facebook!

It is a night I will never forget.

I love being a girl

I never really was a girly girl. I was a tomboy and in junior high a friend made it her mission in life to teach me how to put on makeup and do my hair and dress to impress boys. And thus started the peer pressure to “fit in.” (Lord, what I would give to have not cared about that for those 20 years of my life!) I wanted those Jordache jeans so badly, but dad refused to buy into that higher social status, never desiring to keep up with the Jones. (And just who are the Jones that everyone wants to keep up with?) So I stuck it out with my store brand jeans and made the best of it. Didn’t help that I was the chubby girl, so I was getting teased know matter what.

I never really felt like one of the girls, not until my second run at college when I was 32. In class there were these cool girls, you know, the “cheerleader” types just a little older. Who knew that the sexy and funky girls, Valerie and Rae respectively, didn’t have problems speaking with me and actually acted like they liked me. Then when they asked me to join their study group of cool girls, I thought “Oh my God! I’m a cool kid now! Finally!” And it was grand.

I have carried this “cool kid” attribute with me for some time now. I don’t seek it and I’m not bragging about it, but for the most part, most people seem to include me in the “cool kids” group. It doesn't matter to me, what matters to me is that I have developed relationships with girls whom I think are cool. In these relationships, I can truly be who I am. Even when that 14 year old goofy kid comes out or that divaesque 18 year old brat rears her ugly head, I am still accepted by these cool girls.

And they think I'm a cool girl, too.

Yippee!!

Regardless of how cool I am or how many people think I’m cool, like Christy does, I love being a girl! For example, last weekend, Rick and I had a very pleasurable Valentine’s Day evening with a really fun couple and wonderful friends, Joel and Tammy. We were dressed to the nines. Okay, Rick wasn’t necessarily, but he did have on a pressed bowling shirt and didn't wear sneakers. It’s a start!

The four of us enjoyed a meat-filled dinner at Bailey’s restaurant then we met several other fun couples for a night of dancing at the Glass Cactus in Grapevine. Us girls would round up each other and hold hands as we made our way to the dance floor. We formed a little circle to kind of guard our group from women who have strayed from their group and aren’t familiar with the proper distance that should be maintained between groups of women and we also protect ourselves from the wayward drunk men.

For example, in the past, we’ve had to position ourselves around one of our girls to close out a guy that seemed to be getting “too close” to one of the girls. It’s a FASCINATING process and really should be documented for a PBS show. It might not make the 8pm time slot, but it would be good filler – “The Dancing Rituals of Married Women not Seeking Outside Relationships with Drunk Men Who are Slightly Balding and Think the ‘Have It’ Whatever It Is.” (Might have to shorten that title there a little bit.) So it’s just us girls dancing. This is the one time I do not feel judged while dancing. They don’t realize how much I need them for me to be “cool.”

And as the night was ending, we were getting goofy and Tamo decides to act like she’s strangling me. I make goofy faces until Joel can get the iPhone ready to take photos. We laugh and giggle the whole time. Again, it is only with girls that I can be as goofy and silly without judgment. Here's the proof!

The next night Rick and I visit Mark and Mary, another very fun couple and wonderful friends. We talk and Mary tells me about this amazing new makeup she started using. This is Mary and I from last year:

Before you know it she and I head upstairs to her bedroom where she demonstrates this great new product. I am 44 years old, do you know how long it has been since I’ve “played makeup” with a girlfriend? Maybe 25 years? Something about Mary (no pun intended, really!) sharing her techniques and allowing me to experiment with her new products made me so happy that I am a girl. A girly girl. It was so joyful and I was almost giddy. I can’t seem to find the right word for it. And it almost seemed to cement our bond as girlfriends even further. I didn’t think that was possible because our bond is pretty tight as it is. And she makes me laugh!

Mary makes me laugh.

Tamo makes me laugh.

And it is this laughter I LOVE sharing with all of my girlfriends. And we do, just not often enough, you know? We get so busy that we forget to send a quick email or make a short phone call. It’s a challenge to have get-togethers as frequently as we would like. But I want you to know, yes, I’m talking to YOU, that I think of you, and I smile when I think of you.

And I like being a girly girl. And I like being a tomboy. And I THANK YOU for letting me be my goofy, silly, divaesque, bratty, cool self.

Boiling a Chicken and if I were a Stalker

Last Saturday night Rick and I had dinner at Matt's Tex-Mex. I didn't want to eat a lot so I ordered their chicken tortilla soup.

oh
my
goodness

It was soooo delicious. It had everything in there I use to not eat like broccoli, zucchini, squash and cauliflower. I know what you are saying, "Broccoli and cauliflower in chicken soup??" Well, it was and it was delicious. So it inspired me to make my own chicken soup. Problem was it needed shredded chicken. Why is that a problem? I don't cook chicken. In fact, I hate touching raw chicken. It makes me gag. And if I see any pink on a chicken? I won't eat it. Nope. Might as well throw it all out.

Sure I could have used ground chicken or cut up some cooked chicken breasts but I thought it would be better to use "real" chicken. I asked Rick to pick up a rotisserie chicken at the store and he did and put it in the fridge when he came home. Knowing how I am about touching meat, I saved the worst task for last: deboning the chicken. I got a big pot of water and chicken broth going, cut up my veggies (I forgot zucchini and squash so am using green beans and corn) and added that all to the mix.

Then it was time for deboning the chicken. gag. I open the package and it just looks gross. yuck. Yes, it's fully cooked but it's gross. eww. I'll save you all the details but I ain't doing this again. After my fingers slipped through the rib cage I lost all composure squealing in a high pitched voice that got the dog's attention. I certainly did not need any attention as I grimaced through this ordeal.

While I'm picking meat off the bones, I am reminded of a conversation between Stacy and I about cooking a chicken. I was asking for a simple chicken and dumpling recipe and Stacy gave me hers and it included boiled chicken. So I asked "Where do you get this boiled chicken? In a can?" She laughs and says "No. You boil it." "Ummm, you mean a whole chicken?" "Ummm, yes!" Well, Stacy dear, you didn't provide directions on that. Duh! So I asked "How do you boil a chicken?" She laughs again (I get laughed at a lot, it seems) and says "You boil it! Haven't you ever boiled a chicken?"

I don't know. It seems like growing up in the South with a grandmother who lived off the land and would go to the chicken coup in the morning to pick up some eggs from the hens for breakfast and then in that same day go to said chicken coup and grab a rooster and ring its neck to be cooked up for dinner, it just seems I would have seen her boil a chicken. I hadn't. Ever. I have used an aluminum dipper to drink well water out of a bucket. I have bathed in a wash tub in the middle of the kitchen. I have slept under a mountain of hand quilted blankets in the winter because the wood burning stove was in the other room. I have snapped peas on a warm summer's eve. I have used an outhouse and a pee pot. But I ain't never seen someone boil a chicken.

But I still get ribbed about it by Stacy. I think the reason why she knows how to boil a chicken is because she grew up further South than me. She's part Cajun, you know. She probably eats crawfish, too. Yuck...

So anyway, fortunately I got through the set up process fairly easily. I didn't chop off any fingers even though I tried that fancy mincing technique they do on the cooking shows. You know, it's the chef with a big blade and they just go chop chop chop chop really fast and everything is cut up real fine. I did that and surprisingly did not injure myself. There's always a chance when I handle a knife. Once I sliced my finger wide open while cutting an onion. Went to the fire house to see if I needed to go the ER - and to check out my boys. I don't mean it like that. I'm appalled you'd even think that. Some are like brothers to me. ;) Anyway, no injuries and I look forward to having it for dinner. It smells really good.

Speaking of chicken. My friend Manny took a photo of a large group of white pelicans migrating to Lake Lavon about a week ago while he was fishing. He told me where they were so Sunday I took a little trip out there. I didn't find any pelicans but I did find Manny's truck at the boat ramp sans boat. I thought about putting a note on his truck to say "Hey, I was here" but thought it would be even funnier if the note was a little more stalkerish. I'd write something like "You look so hawt in your Dallas Cowboy hoodie. Yes, I'm following you. Look around. Do you see me? Muwahahaha."

I thought better of it because it'd be my luck the truck wasn't Manny's but someone else's and they would end up being a victim of some horrible crime. The police would analyze the note and find my fingerprints. And then I'd be hauled off to jail and I'm just too pretty to go to jail. I decided against leaving a note all together.

Manny's truck:


Well, I'm off to stir my pot of chicken soup. Stay warm and safe!

Cookie Container

So all weekend we have been hearing how the weather is going to make it treacherous and nearly impossible for travel tomorrow in the DFW area. This is new to us North Texans. As my friend Micki says "You don't live through 100 degree summers only to experience 10 degree winters." Correctomuno, Micki! This is Texas! Not Kentucky! If we wanted to experience below freezing we would have moved to Montana, just sayin'.

So hear it is 11:18pm and it is pouring down rain. The dog has already gone out to do her business, thanks goodness, or else the little "Doesn't Do Rain Diva" would have reared her ugly head like the Exorcist and I would be going to bed cold, wet and frustrated. So tomorrow morning, Rick will get to deal with that, then 15 minutes later, I will deal with it, then 30 minutes later, it's my turn again... sigh.

So I was thinking of how Christy, Lisa and my mom find my blogs humorous (mom's kind of biased). So I thought I'd share a little story that I'm sure you can relate to.

At a party we had last year, Micki brought over a canister full of cookies. Not all of Micki's delicious cookies were eaten so Micki just leaves them with the container behind. But if anyone knows me, you don't leave your container at my house with the expectation that you will get it back. It's not that I want your silly container, it's that I forget about it. Sometimes I put it in the trunk of may car thinking I will just "drop it off" or hand it over when I see you. Well, that rarely if ever happens. And when it does, it's covered in dog hair or leaves. Well that's what you get for leaving it at my house.

So one day about two months after the party (I actually was pleased with myself that it only took two months and not the standard five or six), anyway, I was out running errands and I knew Micki would be home so I grabbed her container to take with me. I finished doing my errands, leaving her for last so as not to feel rushed considering it is an ordeal going over to her home. First, she has to lock up Millie, then Tucker, then she can actually open the front door, but not the glass storm door, at least not until she shoos Chester and Bowser away. If she didn't do that, two little rat terriers would be bopping up and down and yapping so loud we couldn't hear ourselves talk.

Anyway, so I am driving to her house the back way. The light is fading so I can't make out the name on the street sign but it is a four letter word like her street name and the street looks familiar so I take a turn and park in front of her home. I knock on the door, but no one answers. I wait, and I ring the bell and knock again. I know she should be home by now. But it's weird because I don't hear any little dogs snarling and growling at me through the doors. So I open the storm door and place the container between the doors.

A couple of days go by and she hasn't said anything about her container. So I ask "Did you find your container?" She replies "No? Where did you put it?" "I put it in front of your front door. Between the storm door and your front door." She goes to look, "Nope. Nothing there."

She then has the nerve to ask me if perhaps I placed it at the wrong house. What? Me wrong? Never...

It is through this discussion I realize, "Oh, yea, she doesn't have a driveway in front of her house like the one I dropped the canister off at. And yes wasn't it weird I didn't hear any little mongrel doggies."

Sigh...I'm a dork.

You know, this whole thing could have been avoided had I just actually taking two seconds to read the sign instead of faking it. Or better yet, when you drop something off at my house, do not leave the container, or pot, or utensil, or dish if you want it back. From here on out I shall make no promise nor guarantee that I will return your container, et al should you bring it into my house. Period. No warranty. No refund. And no Get Out of Jail Free card, either. Sorry. (See what I did there? Sorry has a dual meaning, as in the game Sorry and as in the apology, but I'm really not apologizing because I told you up front not to trust me with your cooking utensils, pottery, or other home wares.)

So a few nights later I decide to go over to the wrong house and get Micki's container back. She said she didn't want it back but by God, if I lose or break something of yours I will fix it or get a replacement because that's just who I am. Even if it's 25 cents. So anyway, I knock on the door, no one answers but I know someone is home because the garage door is wide open and a car is there. I ring the door bell, nothing. I knock again. I hear the door in the garage close, I run to the garage, nothing. I said "Hello!!" "Hello! I know you're home!" Nothing. I ran back to the front door and knocked several more times. Nothing.

They KNEW I was coming back for that container!! They didn't want to give it up! Asshats... I told Micki and she laughed. She said she knew them and would call them and ask for it back. (By the way, she never called them.)

So another month passes. I sheepishly and apologetically ask Micki if she got her container. She laughs (she always laughs at me when I'm being serious) and assures me she is fine without the container. Her life has not suddenly become unglued because she no longer has that ugly container. (Sorry, it was ugly.) So a few weeks later I surprise with a new and prettier container. And she laughed. :)

Yes, I am a dork. :)

Randomness 1

I titled this blog Randomness 1 because there will be other blogs that are just as random.

Here are a few thoughts and experiences I have had last week and am just now finding time to write them down.

1. I had the most wonderful time last Tuesday night at the Hot Pink Mamas networking, however, my voice was left scratched because there was no way to get people's attention and well, since I have a big mouth, I was the one that called attention. I think Patty thinks my mouth is too big because she discovered another way to get people's attention. LOL

After the meeting, Michelle, Linda, Chris and I went to TGIF. I left with my cheeks aching because we laughed so hard. It feels so good to be able to be your true self around others. Try it.

2. I met with Lisa Peters, she is my accountability partner. No, I'm not in alcoholics anonymous, but we both chose one another to help one another stay focused and on track of our goals and tasks. This can either be personal or business related.

Well, isn't this nice. As I am typing this, my husband walks over, stands behind me, leans over to kiss me then has the nerve to wonder out loud "Alicia's Ramblings?" and questions what that means! And then walks off laughing. What the heck?? :/

Anyway, Lisa and I are truly meant for each other. She's the pretty one, I'm the smart one. She's dependent, I'm codependent. She's the home run hitter, I'm the bat boy. No seriously, she is an amazing woman and so am I and we really are in sync so I think this whole accountability thing is going to work out between us. In fact, I have helped her come up with a potential service and she has helped me pinpoint three projects that I'm going to do by Wednesday next week.

Crap! I haven't done a dang thing yet!!!

3. This week, I have expressed how I really felt to a man that questioned my family's integrity. I'm not going to go into details, but you don't ever question my family's integrity. If we are wrong we will correct it but when you are wrong, be a man and apologize for your error. I had to see this rat this week and told him to his face that I was upset with him. He knew but didn't care. Come to find out everyone else in the organization thinks he is a rat, too. So now I don't care as much. Big rat!!! /shakes fist/

4. My friends Julie and Micki are like the coolest girls. We met up for dinner last Friday night and there was discussion of going to a casino in Oklahoma to see some band from Canada. Yes, a casino... weird. Anyway, Juls is from Canada so I guess that's why she wants to see them and Micki, well, Micki is a horn dawg when it comes to men in bands, so I guess that's why she wants to see them. I can't even tell you the name of this band except that they sing a song that is really dirty and also cover a Duran Duran song. (I still love you Simon!!!!)

So Micki informed us the other day she bought tickets for us three.

I guess when we were talking over pancakes and eggs Friday night, I said something to the effect that I would go with them like "yea, it'd be fun to go to yada yada yada..." You know, it's one of those conversations were you don't think you will be held to your word.... but then you are.

So even though I have no idea where in Oklahoma they are taking me, whether or not I will have to work my way through a smoke filled room of old ladies playing slots, what band is playing, but I am PSYCHED!!!! Can you say GIRL'S ROAD TRIP!??!!! This is so almost Thelma and Louise, only I don't plan on robbing anyone again* and Juls doesn't even know what a gun looks like (she's from Canada)* but I wouldn't put any of that past Micki. She don't mess around, that girl. I would NOT want to tumble with that girl. She'll pull your hair AND knock your teeth out!* Just sayin'...

*Disclaimer: Micki is not that bad; you'd have to provoke her to get that kind of response. I have never robbed anyone. And Juls knows what a gun looks like. Not all Canadians are that sheltered. But they are THAT nice.

5. The kitchen reno part 1 was successful. I love love love my new cabinets and granite counter top. Apparently Alex does too. That little stink! I caught him yesterday on top of the counter, on his back, with his feet in the air, rolling and loving on that counter! I was in such disbelief of what I saw I died laughing before yelling at him to get off!!! I guess this is his way of getting back at us for not being able to get inside the cabinets anymore.

Enjoy this video of Alex and the old cabinet:

Well that is all for now. I hope to have an update on the kitchen today with our new bar stools and chairs.

Have an iFantabulous day!!!

Dust and Cabinets

Day Chiloso's - Jan 13 2011

For those who have been following, my "days" are now numbered with the place we ate dinner for that day (thanks for the idea, Christy). Without any cooking surfaces or cooking tools except for a microwave covered in dust and smelling of burnt popcorn,* we have been eating out during this reno. *Yes, I burnt the popcorn AGAIN, but didn't have to call out the fire department this time... sigh.. I guess I'll fill you in on that later.

This is actually Day 4. We are one day ahead of schedule. I spent most of the day in Plano at an AWESOME networking event, Chocolate Blues. Michelle Ketterman, Lisa Peters, Patty Farmer, Linda, Eva, Nadya, Renea, Danielle, Marla, all of the great Hot Pink Mamas were there! So when I came home, the cabinets were up! All that was lacking were door pulls and knobs, the crown molding and the light rail and granite.



Day Goodfellas - Jan 14 2011

The final day for cabinet and granite install. Everything except the bar was installed. It's my fault, of course. I had to pick out some corbels that hold up the bar and, you guessed it, the ones I chose were special order and 100 bucks more. Well, good grief. I can choose them, huh? But over all the experience was pleasant. Only awkward thing was talking to the Hispanic guy who then translated to the Chinese guy and they both spoke to each other in broken English. I don't know how they do it, but they make it work. I can give you an impression if you ever see me in person. It's funny.

Here is how the kitchen looked after Day 5. LOVE LOVE LOVE the granite!!! OMG!!! It's called Uba Tuba. Really. I'm not making that up. And handy Rick installed a lovely new aged bronze faucet that I found after looking in three different stores for "just the one!"





The Burnt Popcorn Story
In Sept 2007, I bought some new popcorn bags. These were smaller than the normal sized bags so the time to cook isn't as long. Well, I didn't pay attention, I guess, and burnt the popcorn. It wasn't that I just burnt it, but smoke filled the entire first floor of the house; even the smoke detector went off. After smacking the smoke detector with a broom handle, I tried to air out the house but wasn't making any progress. I finally called Fire Station 1 and asked my fire fighting buddy, Jeff, if he and his team could come Code 1 to the house and use their big fans to help push the smell out. I certainly didn't want to call 911 over this nonsense so I placed a public service call and asked "If you have time, yada yada yada..."

The big red truck shows up and Jeff gets out of the cab laughing his butt off at me. In public. With all the neighbors watching. Well, I don't know if they were wathcing, but I can only imagine they were peeking through the blinds like I do when an emergency vehicle pulls up. Yes, I'm that neighbor. Don't judge; you do it, too.

But yea, Jeff makes a big to do about it. That's just what I need to boost my shattered level of confidence. I can't even pop a bag of popcorn without burning it. They push some air around with their big loud roaring fans and the smoke finally started to clear up. I thank them and send them on their way. I ask if they would like a bag of popcorn; they decline.

Whatever.

What was suppose to be a relaxing evening with a bowl of popcorn and some TV and maybe a cat in my lap turned into a visit from the fire department, me running around Febreezing EVERYTHING, running lemon water in the microwave, getting a first degree burn on my hand after adding baking soda to said lemon water, thinking baking soda and lemon water together would REALLY get the smell out of the microwave, to boiling some water with vanilla and cinnamon on the stove and then finally baking a cake to mask the smell only to have used bad oil that caused the cake to stick to the bundt pan thus having to throw the whole thing out.

Sigh....

It LITERALLY cannot be easy when "it" happens, can it? :/

Even though he is a big ol' goober head, my hero, Jeff Scribner is on the left: