I was making brownies yesterday and before I knew it I was on fire–and I don’t mean “on fire” like the time I had two tequilas at a karaoke bar and sang half an Aerosmith song before wandering off to look for my shoes; I mean actual flames.
It happened so fast. I was trying to light the burner, and all of a sudden blue and red air was wicking up my arm and Scott was yelling “Oh my God, what are you doing?” and I was yelling “OH I’M SORRY; I PLANNED THIS BUT IF MY FLAMING LIMB IS INCONVENIENCING YOU I GUESS I’LL PUT IT OUT.”
Here’s the deal: my arms have lots of little hairs on them. And since fire loves a hairy arm like it loves a dry forest floor, I was bound to ignite sooner or later.
In fact, it’s a good thing I was…
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