Yesterday I did something stupid, but I didn't think it was funny enough to earn itself a blog post, so I just wrote a Facebook status about it.
But then tonight Jordan did something stupid. I decided it was the universe telling me that our combined stupidity was too ridiculous not to share on my blog (which may or may not technically reach more people than a Facebook status, but that's beside the point).
Stupid something #1, brought to you by me:
Last night, while I was waiting for dinner to finish cooking in the oven, I started unloading the dishwasher. In the past I've had a few plates or glasses come out needing an extra rinse because there are still small particles of food. This annoys me to no end.
But last night was the worst I'd ever seen. I pulled out a plate, and it was dirty. So I put it in the sink and washed it by hand. The next plate I pulled out looked the same way, and so I washed it by hand. Then I pulled out a bowl, and it was dirty too, so I gave my dishwasher an evil look and launched into a five-minute criticism of crappy apartment appliances and the complete and utter uselessness of my dishwasher--all the while continuing to remove plates and bowls and silverware and wash them by hand.
It was only after I had almost emptied the entire bottom rack that I remembered how earlier that morning I had loaded the dishwasher, closed the door, locked the handle, and left for work, completely forgetting to add soap and actually start the dishwasher.
I felt like I owed my dishwasher an apology.
Stupid something #2, brought to you by Jordan:
Tonight I made my mom's favorite meal: chicken cordon blue. Making said chicken involves folding a slice of cheese and ham inside a chicken breast and using a toothpick to hold the sides together.
When I called Jordan into the kitchen to eat, I added this warning: "Watch out for the toothpicks in the chicken."
We got our plates and sat down to eat.
"How is it?" I asked after a few minutes of silent chewing.
"It's, it's good..."
I could tell by the look on his face and the odd way he was moving his jaw that something wasn't right. "Are you okay?"
"I think so."
At this point I repeated what I thought was a needless warning: "Well, just remember to watch out for the toothpicks."
"Umm, yeah." I wasn't sure why he sounded confused, seeing as how just a few minutes earlier we had conversed (albeit briefly) about the possible toothpick danger.
"That's what I'm chewing on!"
"Are you serious?" This wasn't a real question. I thought he was kidding.
"I think I ate one!"
I asked him a few more times if he was joking, just to make sure. But no, sure enough, he had been chewing for a solid minute on half a toothpick that he had thought was the burnt edge of a piece of ham.
He searched his mouth and pieced together what he could of the mutilated toothpick on his napkin, and we determined that he had most definitely consumed at least 25% of it.
I was not sympathetic. "I warned you about the toothpicks," I said between laughs. "This is completely your fault."
He sighed and lowered his head in shame. "I know."
Our combined total is:
Don't be like us.