I'm a danger to the world

I got adventurous this morning and tried to cook some eggs, with a pre-made “scramble” mix of mostly frozen veggies.

In the ten minutes or so I was in the kitchen for, I managed to do the following:
*Spill half a mug of coffee onto the newspaper
*Start to burn the vegetables (note: clean up after cooking, not during)
*Lightly burn my hand (note: The handle of the cast-iron skillet will in fact get hot)
*Set off the smoke detector
*Drop a raw egg on the floor
*Pinch my finger in the folding step-stool (note: everyone in my house is under 5’8, why the hell is the smoke detector up so high?)
*Step in raw egg.
*Burn my hand less-lightly (note: if you leave the previously-hot skillet on a hot burner, it will not magically cool off)
*Drop cast-iron skillet full of vegetables and eggs on the floor
*Burn my toe.
*Scare my dog so badly by screaming obscenities, she’s still hiding from me two hours later.

At least my mother will be pleasantly surprised that I mopped the kitchen floor for her this morning.

But I think I’m going to walk up to Taco Bell for lunch today; I need to cross four busy lanes of traffic to get there, but I’m pretty sure it’s safer.

NinjaChick? You might want to, um… you know, rethink that a little. :slight_smile:

Wanna hear about me pouring a gallon of boiling honey on my foot? I don’t know if it’ll make you feel any better.

Hey, my username is “Balance”, and I once tripped over a big yellow “Caution: Wet Floor” sign. :slight_smile:

Ow, ow, ow…boiling honey is like napalm for mead-makers. It sticks and burns. I’ve never spilled that much, but I’ve burned myself with the stuff far too many times.

Sympathies for your ill-fated attempt at breakfast, NinjaChick. Hope you survive your trip to Taco Hell!

Yeah, I’m a terrible pessimist who, at work, has long been called “Bitter Bob”, so I guess I’m a fine one to talk.

Among the list of lessons I learned that night was “wear boots when mead making”. Hot honey + cotton socks… I got off lucky with only second degree burns.

NinjaChick, check in occasionally so we know you’re not laying in a ditch somewhere.

Now THAT’S dangerous.

I went up a tree with a chainsaw to cut off dead limbs when the tree started to fall.

I dropped the running chainsaw on my arm.

Alive and well, thanks. I had to run up to the mall anyway, so figured I’d grab lunch there (there’s something so delectably horrid about Taco Bell, IMO). No further injuries were sustained, and by, uh, borrowing some of my parents’ leftover chicken from last night, I’ve regained my dog’s trust.

Tell that to your colon!

Wow, you cook like me!

Just makes you want to cook something every day, doesn’t it?

I hearby nominate “Tell that to your colon!” as the new SDMB meme.

I believe Autolycus wins the thread.

It’s about time somebody talked back to their colon.

My colon is talking back to me.


Wanna see the scar on my arm from tripping over my own two legs?

Let’s also talk about the concussion I gave myself on Saturday (dizzy, couldn’t walk straight afterwards, sleepy, had to lie down for a while) and the quarter-sized bruise on the back of my leg.

Also, how I’ve apparently managed to sprain my foot without noticing.
Hang in there, NinjaChick. You may end up in a full body cast someday but you’ve got a really, really cool username, and that’s what counts. :wink:

Oh shucks, you’re making me blush!

tell that to your colon) :smiley:

Hah! I’ll keep that in mind next time I do something so spectacular it draws blood. “Welp, I’m about to pass out because oh god blood, but I’ve got an awesome username online!”

Believe it or not I’m fairly coordinated when not doing cooking things. I’m not the picture of perfect grace or anything, but I (usually) can go about my life without serious injury. But put me in the kitchen and Something Happens; the best I can figure, I mentally de-age to the age of six or so.

I am suddenly reminded of the dreaded sparkler incident of DOOM! It was not pretty.

I once cut myself very badly with a butter knife.

Backstory: my ex-boyfriend (still friends) had taken a job selling Cutco knives. I lived in a college dorm at the time with no kitchen, so I had no need for a big collection of kitchen knives, but I bought a butter knife from him. It was actually a nice knife- had a sharp edge.

Moral of story: never buy knives from your ex, even if you’re still on good terms.

I moved into an on-campus apartment with a kitchen, and used the aforementioned knife to cut open a plastic package. I miscalculated, and ended up badly cutting my left middle finger (I still have a scar, more than 10 years after). It bled a lot, so much that I was worried that I would bleed to death. Then I started really hoping that my atheist friends were right about there not being an afterlife, 'cause I really don’t want to spend eternity explaining how I managed to kill myself with a butter knife…


As for me being a danger; I’m not normally klutzy (tell that to your colon) but I was in my chemistry lab and I managed to firstly, break the end of a distillation apparatus (I didn’t notice it in the tube and it fell out and broke). And then I knocked over a baby measuring cylinder. And told my partner that I would do the calculations; could he please clean up?

At times, I get to use explosives :smiley:

To help, I get my friend to top off the holes with ANFO and do the stemming.

At least once every job, my friend says “Oops” :eek:

Oops is not a word you want to hear when using explosives :smack:

Video :stuck_out_tongue: Click on each thumbnail