Freak me out

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Beautful fire pit!

For John and my dad's super bowl* party John wanted to try a new recipe. So he found a recipe for jalapeno pepper poppers.  They sounded relatively simple. In fact they were pretty easy and they turned out pretty good. I had fantastic pictures of them and of the events that followed but my camera ate my pictures today. So you will just have to trust me!

I cut and de-seeded almost 30 jalapenos and created a filling mixture with cream cheese and cheddar cheese. Then we filled the empty jalapenos with the filling, breaded them and baked them. They came out looking pretty scrumptious. John was running a little behind (shocking I know!) so I wrapped them in foil and sent him on his way.

Then it happened....

I was catching up on my TIVOed shows and realized that my hands were ON FIRE! So I rushed into the kitchen and frantically washed my hands seriously 10 times. Ahhh... relief. So I went back to the couch. Then 1-2 minutes later FIRE!!!! So again I washed and scrubbed my hands. I sat down certain that I had washed away the blazing hot demon juice from  my hands. Nope.. didn't last long. I found my self stumbling through the house praying for an answer to relieve my pain. I went to the bathroom where I knew all the good stuff was. I began dumping aloe vera on my hands. Nope. Then I tried peroxide, and alcohol, and even bikini cream! Nope, nope, and nope. Finally I go back into the kitchen determined to save my poor poor hands. When my Chemistry minor finally kicked it. Recall that blazing hot demon juice is an acid. I need to neutralize it using a base. Quickly I lunged towards the refrigerator for milk.

There it was! Refreshing, cold, and empty gallon of skim delight milk. Darn that husband and his double-stuffed Oreos! By this point I am strategizing how I can manage to drive down the road to the grocery store with fire on my hands. And wondered whether or not they would kick my out for pouring milk on my hands right there in the refrigerator section. Then I decided there had to be another way.

Then there it was staring back at me. Gleaming with all the goodness that is....... baking soda. I mangaged to get the box open with my crippled fingers and mixed the soda into a paste. Then I gooped that mess all over my hands and and the Hallelujah chorus rang out. I had saved my hands from eternal damnation!

Lesson learned: Let your husband make his own darn football snacks!

*(ha ha ha the first time I typed that I typed bowel!)