I carry a pencil, I'm a lawyer, that's what I do!

I'm accident prone, I believe that this has been established numerous times. However, nothing too bad has happened in the past couple of years. No broken bones, no major car accidents, no high degree burns (granted I hit my head with my straightener the other day and then there is the oven burn when I tried to warm a girl scout cookie (bad idea by the way)...and this is when I realize that I don't think I have blogged about my experience trying to warm a girl scout cookie in the oven...I think it is so. That story must come first now).

Okay, so I'm accident prone, I still have ten fingers, ten toes, both eyes, ears, a nose, etc. I was going to tell you that I have advanced to just dropping things, but as I write all the little accidents keep coming to mind.

(Okay, I feel like I've blogged this, so if it's a repeat I'm sorry). A lot of few weeks ago (back when girl scout cookies had just come out) I was eating one of the short bread cookies. As I was chewing on this morsel of heaven I thought to myself, "I bet this would taste good warmed up." As most cookies do. So I took another bite and then walked over to the oven, which was already on because sometimes in the wintry days I would turn it on while I was in the kitchen for warmth. I pulled open the oven door and looked into the burning hot cavern and a thought popped into my mind, "fold up a piece of foil and set the cookie on it." I looked at the rack in the middle, mentally measuring the distance between one rod to the next and thought, "naw, I can place it right on the rack." That little thought that had popped into my head wheezed away like a balloon that someone had been working on but hadn't yet tied off, and as it wheezed away I heard a harsh whisper, "fine moron." I felt certain that I could place the cookie directly on the rack and not have to worry about preparing a piece of foil for a safer and smarter way to do this. But even with all my certainty there was still a speck of doubt. So like any intelligent, college graduate I put my right hand between the two racks and prepared to drop the cookie with my left. The right hand would easily catch it should it fall through, and the left had to drop it to avoid direct skin to hot metal contact. It was the perfect plan. What I forgot to factor in was the fact that when something scares me my whole body jumps in some way or another. I also forgot to factor in that just like you can't look at both eyes in a staring contest, you can't concentrate on both hands when they are in danger and must retreat in opposite directions. As the left hand dropped the cookie (this is in slow motion by the way) the right hand braced itself to stay still, no sudden movements. As the cookie slowly approached it's failing point, the point it was sure to turn ever so slightly and fall through the crack, my left hand was already on it's panic course. Having built up the anxiety of how much it would hurt to accidentally hit the metal rack in the middle of the oven my left had reacted as though it actually did...when it had in fact, not touched it at all. The result: My right hand stay perfectly still, not even moving slightly to catch the cookie as it indeed had fallen straight through, while my left hand flung up to the roof of the oven. Once there, the red hot coils seared the delicate flesh of the backside of my hand. ...So what did I do you might ask? Well, I don't like to experience pain for no gain, so I grabbed the cookie, put it on the counter and I stuck my hand under the ice cold water (which is painful for me because my hands are usually cold and when they have contact with cold water they are slow to recover and they actually hurt). After 2.5 seconds I grabbed a piece of foil, folded it up, and put the cookie back in the oven, then I went back to the water until I felt ample time had passed for the cookie to warm. Then I went and bit into it.
I would like to be able to tell you that the warmed shortbread cookie was quite possibly the best thing that man has ever tasted. I would like to tell you that I felt all the pain had been worth it. But unfortunately all I can tell you is that a warmed shortbread cookie taste (and feels) about the same way it would had you left the package opened, in your car during a heat wave...for three weeks.
Oh and I would like to have a happy ending and tell you some incredible benefit from this story and say, "but not all is lost" but really, all was lost, the rest of the cookie was a waste, time and energy that I'll never get back, a square of foil that served no real purpose in this life. If I was looking for self mutilation I would have achieved something that day, but as is...nothing.

Now the "simply dropping" spaghetti story is not nearly as interesting, and therefore I will just graze over it quickly, if even at all. I lost a whole box of spaghetti to the germ infested floor the other night. That's it. It fell, not once, not twice, but in three different events. So long 78 cent box of angel haired pasta, you shall be missed.

And just in case any of you thoroughly enjoy my stories of blood and carnage that my oh so high IQ can't even seem to stop, there is the most recent story of the butter and knife.

I was making rice, fried rice but not really, more like half fried rice the way my mom makes it. To do this, you start out with butter. I had purchased butter sticks a few weeks ago for just such culinary needs as this. However, I had also frozen the butter. Not a problem, not for anyone with a cutting board and some counter space and a rather sharp knife...I figure one out of three ain't bad.
So sans cutting board and counter space Captain Genius here thought it would be perfectly okay to attempt cutting the frozen rock hard butter while cradled in the palm of my hand (I realize now of course that I'm a blazing idiot). So I attempted this while talking to my roommates. Things were going well at first, the knife had finally moved a centimeter into the butter when suddenly it slipped!!!! I would have never thought it possible but yes folks, the knife slipped from the butter and grazed my hand. I said a few choice "ows" and then checked out the damage on my hand, a little messed up looking, but no blood no foul right? I think I did grab a plate at this point though and cut the rest of the butter. It wasn't until later that I looked down at my hand, thought something was on it so went to pick it off and realized it was my skin. Still didn't bleed though, good thing, but stung like no other (still does with warm water).

Okay, the accident train is leaving the station now. Sorry if this was a long one.