Note to self: Do not fry pork without wearing a shirt.


(holds cold compress to side)

(blacks out from pain)

Oh you poor thing. Don’t worry I will avenge your hurt and disgrace. I will go out right now and eat a delicious pork burrito. All the while thinking, “This is for Matt you pig bastard!!”.


Jesus, Matt. Be glad you were wearing pants!

If you’re talking on the phone and need to get something out of the oven, put the phone down first. Boy, did my sister ever get an earful.

Two words–Frying Chicken

oh, if we’re going to be sharing stories of equally stupid acts.
Don’t ever, ever, ever, even if you are paid, place your hand in molten sugar. When I tried to pull it off, large sheets of skin came with it.

Don’t feel bad. I am the Queen of Home Accidents.

I did this a couple a years ago, and I still have a fear of pasta. This was a pain in the ass to write out, so PLEASE excuse my spelling.

I came home from work after going to the gym. I started boiling water for spaghetti while I changed out of my gym clothes. When the spaghetti was done, I was still running around in a t-shirt and underwear. I attempted to drain the spaghetti in the sink but somehow managed to get the boiling water on my legs and butt instead of the drain. I threw the pot in the sink, ran into the shower. I figured, I would just rinse off and I’d go see if there was anything left in the pot and eat dinner. I am so dumb.
It was like an I Love Lucy episode. First of all, it took me ten minutes to figure out that I should have taken the underwear off. Instead, I sat in the tub, with the waistband holding the boiling water against my skin.

After I realized I had actually seriously injured myself I tried to get out of the tub, but I couldn’t take being out of the water for more than 30 seconds. I couldn’t find a phone that worked, finally I had to call my parents who lived twenty minutes away. By the time they got to my apartment I had been sitting in the tub for 45 minutes and I was starting to go into shock. I had made my parents drive into the city so they could call 911 for me!

By the time the paramedics got there, I had blisters the size of dinner plates on my inner thighs and second degree burns on my ass. The paramedics tried to get me out of the tub to get stretcher. Too bad I couldn’t stand up. Then instead of a stretcher, I get this little hand cart. Apparently they had mistaken me for Hannible Lechter. So there I sat. Wrapped in a sheet, in shock, legs flailing in every direction with these two guys giving me cooking tips on the way down the stairs. Then to add insult to injury, they stopped to rest half way down the stairs!! I’m 5’2" if I lie and about 125 pounds! Here’s two huge guys and they’re resting! I was dying. They try to get me in the ambulance and I kicked the side of the rig so hard that I ripped open my big toe.
I spent the next three weeks in VERY LOOSE clothes!

To this day no one including myself, can figure out how I managed this amazing feat of culinary stupidity.

Well, here’s how it turned out. I had a leisurely dinner, sat around for a while, posted to the boards. Then I trotted down to the pharmacy to see if I could get some ointment or something. The pharmacist looked at the burn in horror and told me to get my butt to the hospital. So I did, somewhat shocked that it was that severe… Anyway, I got to the Royal Vic and checked in.

It really wasn’t all that severe, happily, but I was told I had to wait FIVE HOURS! Stupid bureaucrats. Anyway, so I sat in the waiting room for a few hours with ice on the burn. A pleasant surprise - after only two hours, I got to see a doc. Anyway, he told me that it was a first degree burn, made a sexist joke, and told me to ice it and take a tylenol. I headed home and now have the pleasure of your company and doing the dishes.

The bad part is that I now have ugly hive-like welts down the side of my stomach. Eww. But I’m doing better than the acquaintance of mine I chatted with in the waiting room, one of whose testicles had apparently swollen up to the size of a grapefruit.

Good to hear your burn isn’t severe, matt. I got burned once by the fries basket (it touched my arm as it came out of the hot oil) at McD’s, and although it wasn’t a big burn, it still hurt like hell.

Um, how was the pork?

Ok, next lesson. How not to cut up a carrot.
Hold the carrot in the air over the kitchen sink. Slice it with a very sharp knife. Put knife down, wrap now severely bleeding finger in a paper towel. Walk to the Quick Care clinic, happily only half a block away. Get seven stitches. Have your whole hand splinted because you cut your finger lengthwise over the knuckle and the doctor doesn’t want you bending your finger and rip out the stitches.

Next day, go to work and deal craps one handed. Get lots of pity tokes from the customers, who unanimously agree that the boss should have given you the day off.

Ten days later, I got the stitches out. The cut had barely begun to heal. The doctor had to stitch it up too tightly to allow enough blood circulation, because I had cut it so deeply, she was just trying to stop the bleeding.

It took almost another two weeks to heal completely, and it was more than a month after it healed before I could fully bend the finger. A friend recommended MSM, which is a form of organic sulfer, and helps with healing and reduces scar tissue. If it weren’t for that, I would probably have a huge-ass scar on my finger and still not be able to bend it.

Brutal object lesson in the importance of using a cutting board.

Pah. I worked in the kitchen of a barbeque restaraunt for 3 years.

Just let me say, your hands get used to, and then immune to, hot oil pretty quickly. I don’t think it even bothered me after the first 6 months on the job. Although, when it popped on my arms, it still burned like hell.

Heck, I got so used to hot oil, I’d eat fries straight out of the oil, with no cool down. They’re crispiest that way. Yum.


If you have a cast on your left arm and
you are allergic to bee stings, do not
let a bee sting you on your left hand
over Labor Day weekend. You will sit in
the emergency in agony, watching your hand
swell under the cast until your circulation
is cut off while the interns debate what to
do. By the time they take off your cast
and give you a shot of cortisone, your arm
will be about twice its size.

Once the swelling went down, I never bothered
to have the arm reset.

Boiling Oil really does hurt. So does hot spagetti. Or Rotini. Or Ziti noodles. Or Rageaux (inside joke) sauce.

Pizza ovens are hot. I have a small scar on my hand where I tried to lift a pizza out at a bad angle. Hand hit hot brick. Ouch.

Side Note: Do not pour Hydrocloric Acid into running water. you will not like the result. gasp

I got a finger trapped for about 3 seconds in a chicken bun toaster in McD’s.
I’ve fallen on broken glass and slit my knee open

I am king of the Klutz accidents

And one from my mom: Do Not Iron Naked While Pregnant.

I forget if it was with me or my younger brother, but yep, Mom ran the iron right off the board and right over her 8 or 9 month’s pregnant belly.

I myself have, with some frequency, sliced right through a bagel or roll and into my hand. It happens so fast you don’t feel it until you see the blood; imagine this happening while you are working the sandwich counter in your college dining hall, and you have to discretely discard the roll, and walk, not run, to the kitchen where you beg the nice chef man to take over while you try to stop the bleeding. Fun!

Its your technique matt. When you fry, be sure to put the front of the meat down first then lay it so the back comes down next. If you do the back first [this is steak we are talking about] to the front, its going to splatter.

I had an experience similar to Shay519’s but not as severe. I spilled my spaghetti water on my left foot, clad in only a cotton sock. The sock held the hot water to my skin until I could tear it off, long enough to blister the top of my foot.

Matt, what is it with you and pork chops?

I used to know a grill cook who routinely flipped burger patties with her fingers. Said she’d been doing it for 30 years like that, had absolutely no feeling left in her fingertips. Geez.

I dunno how the Health Department felt about it.

Well this story is as funny as it is indelicate so I’m just going to let rip. OK, several years ago the Mr.and myself were feeling frisky and quite energetic. That’s when we attempted a manuver that for two 30-somethings on a waterbed was tricky to say the least. It involved a sort of modified missionary varation in which SHE is on her back with legs extended and HE was sort of kneeling and holding on to Her ankles. A good bit of balance and coordination was required to accomplish this feat on our waterbed. Well we were having a grand old time until the family dog deciding to investigate what all the fuss was about, jumped up on the bed and did a very rude thing involving dog’s cold nose and master’s warm exposed butocks. At this point, hubby let out a yelp, all balance and composure lost and ended up falling forward still holding on to one female leg forcing it into a postion not achieved since childhood and coming to rest with his full weight on my now hyperextended leg. After a trip to the ER claiming a “sports injury”, I was told I had a deep tendon sprain of the hip flexors. Even with anti-inflammary med, rest, and therapy, it took about 6 weeks to get over it. Oooh hurts so good.