Monday, September 24, 2007

Living alone will be the death of me....literally

Literally...a fiery, smoky, charred death.

Friday night, I'm sitting around having the Friday beers and generally just enjoying the evening. I watched one of my favourite shows and then started playing my football game on the playstation. Yes, I am a dork. A charming, witty, super attractive dork, but a dork nonetheless. Anyway, not paying any attention to the time, I get hungry. With a capital H. No problem, it's Friday and it's only midnight, I'll order a pizza. Nah, I think, I have a frozen one here. I'll save some money and just make that. Beauty. I get the pizza out, turn the oven on, slice my hot peppers for the top and put it in the oven after patiently waiting an eternity for it to preheat. Back to the sofa I go and I flip through the channels looking for some stupid movie to entertain me while I wait 25-28 minutes for the pizza to be ready. I watch the clock diligently, even getting up at 23 minutes to check on it to see if by some chance it's ready early. No dice. Back to the couch...I figure I'll give it 6 minutes or so now. Fast forward to me flying off the couch and looking frantically at the clock. It's 4 am. The pizza has now been in the oven the math here...3.5 hours. It looks like a meteorite. I don't think the Smithsonian has prehistoric rocks that are as black and hard as this thing is. The kitchen's a little smoky, but not bad. My pizza pan survived the incident as did the inside of the new oven that I just got. That day. (thank you landlord) I get it out and set it in front of the window to cool as I lumber back to the bed to deal with it all in the morning as I'm just glad not to have caught the house on fire. That's when the smoke alarm goes off. Twice. Silencing that, I now have a splitting headache. Two tylenol later, and I'm back asleep, alarm set to wake me up for errands in the morning....oh what a night.

Saturday morning, I tend to the remains and head off to town for some very unproductive shopping. Back home at 12, I have my Octoberfest pack of Sam Adams and am ready to watch the WVU game. After I find my glasses. I had them on last night. I didn't go anywhere. My apartment isn't that big. I looked for them for an hour. I moved the couches, took the cushions off, even dug through the trash. All to no avail. I don't have any idea where they are. Apparently, they have fallen prey to the midnight gremlins that are fueled by alcohol and that suck things into the abyss that is centered in my living room. I'll probably find them in a week or so in pieces somewhere.

Then, watching the game, one of the idiot announcers made the bold statement as if it were a fact written in stone somewhere that Deon Sanders is the greatest player that's ever played in the NFL. Now, I don't know who I would consider the greatest, but I'm pretty damn sure it's not that flashy, overrated waste of oxygen. I mean, did he do anything specatacular other than run his mouth more than anyone else in the league?

Sunday, I hear another brilliant commentator say about Brett Favre's tying Marino's touchdown record "so, does this compare with something like Bonds and the homerun record?" No, jackass, it doesn't. Brett has never been in the middle of any scandal and has been (as far as I remember) a stand up guy and not an asshole. Those are 3 things Bonds can't say. But, anyway, I'm gonna start muting the game and making up my own commentary. I'm going to have to I suppose, as I can't see the screen like I could...actually, the money for the big screen tv is well spent now. Go me!!

In summary, make sure your smoke detectors work and when you want something to eat late at night...just order it.


JDizzle said...

Country, do you have one of those timer thingies? That helps. Or you could donate your meteor to science. Or open your own Shrinky Dink factory.

country roads said...

oddly, my new oven doesn't have a timer. It must be the ultra-generic brand. I usually use the timer on my phone, but I figured, in all my genius, that I would stay awake...ha! Guess next time, I'll set the alarm.

Mortarbored said...

Ah, been there. I came home drunk one night last year (go figure) and threw in two french bread pizzas in the toaster oven. Instead of pressing toast, I turn it to 350 and go to check my email. Which turns into passing out on my bead and waking up to 2600 sq ft of smokiness and two black bricks.

DrunkBrunch said...

I nearly lost my studio in the first month I lived there when a candle in a tin can burned out of control.

I contained the fire after running around and wildly flapping my arms for two minutes.

Ha Ha Sound said...

You should get an over like mine, which you can set for a certain amount of time (it then shuts itself off).

Also, your glasses have probably been in your shirt pocket this entire time. =+)

MsPuddin said...

Aww man that would have been a great newspaper headline, “Flaming pizza burns down dork’s apartment Friday night”…

I'm glad to hear it didn't happen though, honestly...then how would you blog?