Tuesdays are busy nights in our house. Carsten gets home from school and has to do homework, then I get dinner started and we have to eat quickly before heading out the door to cheer-leading practice. I should have known better than to plan to make something that needed to be grill. I am not a grill master.
I was already running behind, trying to make the other half of the dinner, put Carsten’s hair in a pony tail AND helping Cody fill out a college application all while trying to start the grill. I started out like I always do, without reading the instructions printed in BOLD TYPE on the front of the grill. I turned the burners up to HIGH and pushed the ignite button. And I pushed it and pushed it and then……. I PUSHED IT. Nothing. I checked if the propane was turned on, it was. What else is there to do except go back and PUSH AND PUSH AND PUSH the ignite button again. Apparently you are not supposed to do this. Because….
A HUGE fireball poofed out into.my.face. Luckily I was looking down, with my hair slung forward in front of my face, this is why my hair took the brunt of the fireball.
I felt for my eyelashes first. I pay good money for those babies! Intact! YES! But, then in my peripheral vision, just beyond my cheeks was what I can only describe as puffy little clouds of curly pubic hair. Have you ever smelt burnt hair? AWFUL. Don’t do it.
I walked inside and Cody was standing there. His first words? “Oh. My. God.” Oh thanks, son… that is encouraging! I swung to the left into the half bath and turned on the light. Oh sweet baby Jesus lying in a manger… it was all curled up around my face…. a little tiny halo of pubic hair. I turned back to Cody and he tried to pat it. “DON’T TOUCH IT!!!” , I yelled. I was terrified it would fall off of my head. Not sure why, because I sure the hell didn’t want to KEEP it if it looked like THAT.
So, I did the only thing a sane and rational person could do. I text’ed my hairdresser. After laughing at me, she gave me an emergency haircut appointment.
I barely touched my hair before the appointment today and when I saw my hairdresser she asked me to tell her the story again. Not out of concern or confusion… she just wanted to laugh her ass off at me. AGAIN.
slightly sadistic skilled hairdresser and thankfully she was able to save the day. She gave me a cute, sassy little haircut with lots of layers. You know, to cover up those sections of hair that were 1/2 inch long.
ps. After I got the grill started, I ended up burning the chicken. I think it is safe to say my grilling days are OVER.