i love corndogs. i prefer my corndogs to be served at the state fair with homemade root beer, surrounded by large, hairy, sweaty overgrown men and women in t-shirts bearing their east side pride while pulling their children around on leashes. but in a pinch, i'll heat up the corndogs from the box and eat to my little heart's content.
except tonight, the gran massa decided that he was going to eat the whole box. there were like 15 corndogs in there. (i'll save my analytical dissertation on the [un]nutrition of eating 15 corndogs for another post...) so if i was going to have a corndog this week, it was every girl for herself.
so i stuck them in the oven. and 20 minutes later they were done. YUM! corndogs and lots of catsup, and i'm a happy girl! :D
but five minutes after that, you'd think the freakin house was going to explode. the smoke detectors started going off because someone that made corndogs (who could that be?!) forgot to turn off the oven and there's like a seven pound wad of burnt cheese in the bottom of it (again, i don't know who would do such a thing...). i don't know whose idea it was to put dueling smoke detectors in the living room, but one was always two beats behind the other and it was making me nuts. i like even my chaos to be orderly...
but that's not the point.
how do you think the gran massa gets a smoke detector to stop beeping?
take out the batteries? knock the thing off the ceiling? air out the oven and hope for the best?
nope.
in our house, we find it best to stand directly under the beeping smoke detector and blow on them as hard as possible.
around here, the fun never, ever stops. because we are retarded.
love, supersortofretardedandfullofcorndogsjanel
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