I just had an epic battle with my firealarm. It's Monday and I'm completely braindead from the weekends debauchery and experimentation. Clearly, this means cooking is a task much too large for me... but alas, I live on my own have no lover, can't afford a maid while my parents have long since disowned me. Oh, actually it's Wednesday. Nevermind. Recovering parts of my brain one at a time.
So... I put the frying pan on my stove (new gas stove, heats up reaaaal good...) along with a pot of water, to boil some pasta. Now, I was gonna stick some meat into that frying pan AFTER I boiled the pasta.. anyways, in great fashion I put the frying pan on max so it's getting dryheated.. supposed to put the water on boil... to cut things short my firealarm goes off. Im running around like a headless chicken thinking im gonna be sexually assaulted by aliens or whatever that thing warns for. Then finally I get a chair, the damn thing wont turn off.. loudest little bugger. I start punching it until I manage to rip it straight out of the fucking ceiling. Little Firealarm the 1st was just doing his job.. or its job, whatever... so in dedication to Firelarm 1st I write this blog. *tear*
Firealarm was a great servant, waiting for weeks to perform his one and only simple task, which firealarm did flawless only to be ravaged and beaten to death by a perverted and drug crazed madman (ok slight exaggeration).
Firelarm will be missed and cherished in memory for all etern... for like a day. Until there's an actual fire or extraterrestrials come to rape me. it does warn for that right?
BTW I TURNED MY TAGLIATELLE INTO MUSH. GORDON RAMSEY WOULD HAVE MY ASS.
why do they let people like me have gas stoves? those things are lethal.