In direct opposition to the theme of my most recent smoothie-obsessed post, I write to inform all that the problem I am facing at this moment is the large amount of bacon grease in my hair. It would appear that the deities of health food not only smote me today for my self-righteous smoothie-drinking vitamin-enhanced swagger, but laughed ironically as they did so.
There I was, kitchen, 2010. I was getting my smoothie ingredients all packed into the blender, adding frozen blueberries today to increase my intake of awesomeness, when the oven timer went off. I bent over to remove the chicken (that phrase rules on so many levels, mostly perverted ones)(okay, I'm still laughing a little bit) and had one of those moments where you hear a loud noise, get hit with something, and have a few moments where you are completely unable to figure out what just happened. I realized soon enough that my glass of bacon fat, the one that I keep on the top edge of the stove, the one that for some reason I'm inordinately proud of because I feel it is a sign of commitment to disregard all things arterial, had fallen down and hit the stovetop, spewing forth its slightly melted contents. Next I realized that bacon fat is hard to see through when it coats the surface of your eyeball. It didn't hurt but made things blurry and it can't be good to have bacon fat in your eye. My retina might get clogged.
It would appear that bacon fat travels far, as the spatter patterns were wild and showed clear evidence of high velocity upon contact with the floor, oven, and my head. Of course I declared a state of emergency and banned all passersby (two little curly-headed boys, mainly) from entering the bacon fat zone. I reached into my knowledge of lipids vs. detergents and eliminated the problem from the floor, assuring safety for all. However my hair seems to be resisting efforts to de-baconify (I believe that should be pronounced de-buh-KAHN-uh-fy). It no longer feels greasy after intensive repeated shampooing, but there remains an aura of Sunday breakfast about my person. I will readdress it in the morning, or possibly just serve all day as positive breakfast associations for the public at large.
P.S. It is from beef bacon.
6 comments:
I laughed and laughed and laughed (not at the mishap, mind you, just at your description). Why are you not writing? Probably because you are mom-ing and school-ing, but seriously . . . think about it.
Bacon is a cruel mistress. She is delicious, but she will have her pound of flesh. You live on the edge--the edge of the counter, apparently--and I support that completely. As Ali G. would say, much respek.
Kirsten, I just need to commit to it, eh? I think about it all the time...drives me crazy that I'm not doing it for real. I need to talk to you about it.
Val, bacon is a greasy slut. She made my eye blurry and my hair slick. Also even though I washed it ten million times as I heated up at jiu jitsu I started to smell like Perkins.
Oh, bacon...
Any time you want to talk, I'm ready.
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