Friday, February 11, 2011

Note to Self.

Keisha will go crazy when a blow torch is in her possession.

Which is why I'm going to try and locate a blow torch to keep as a permanent fixture in our apartment.

Seriously, hilarious.  So earlier this week, Matt made us creme brule (sp? ...just because my last name might be french, does not mean I should be able to spell anything else in just occurred to me that creme brule might not even be french.  To which I say, 'don't care').  Now, as you might know, creme brule has that special caramelized sugar top part.  How do you achieve such a look?  Well, if you're Matt, you obviously use one (of your two) blow torches.  Don't ask me why he has them.  When he said that he was going to use a blow torch, I may or may not have stopped shoving pie into my face and looked up with peaked interest.

Blow torch?  Did he just say blow torch? Wait, are people like me allowed to use blow torches?  What I'm trying to say is, can I use your blow torch for the creme brule?  I have a perfectly clean blow torch track record.  So what if I've never actually used one?  At least I haven't lit anyone's pants on fire before (Rachel...).  Hey, Matt.  Matt. Hey, hey.  How about you let me use the blow torch to, you know, blow torch stuff.  Like creme brule.  Or other things.  I'm open to suggestions.

Apparently, I'm very convincing, and he consented to let me use the blow torch (blow torch!) when he made the creme brule.  I was stoked.

Sadly, he made the creme brule on my first late date at the library (I swear, the closing music is getting lamer and lamer.  What ever happened to "Here's to You, Mrs. Robinson", which is what they played at my first late date freshman year...precious moments).

Anyway, I didn't get home until after midnight.  But when I got home, there was creme brule waiting for me.  And, next to the creme brule was blow torch.  (That means that Matt left a blow torch, blow torch! for the girls in 12.)  Keisha and Katie were the only ones awake, and I would be lying if I didn't say that things immediately went out of control.  Let's just say Keisha got her hair burned off, and my favorite pair of pants is now a pair of jorts.  Psych.  But things did get a little out of hand.  Keish got her crazy face know, that face that sometimes makes me wonder if I should be within 100 feet of her.  We blow torched that creme brule like nobody's business.  (Don't worry, Matt.  We stopped once it started getting black, as tempting as it was to keep going.)  Then we ate tons of creme brule, and just so you know, the blow torched part is the most delicious.  Next, the blow torch was running around the apartment. Then the blow torch was blow torching a piece of paper.  Then the blow torch found its way outside where it blow torched our initials into the snow.   Then it was blow torching small rodents.  Okay, that's a lie.

But do you want to know what is not a lie?  Blow torches are neat.

Also, that creme brule was delicious.  Super delicious.  Super duper delicious.

No comments: