Now that's a fire. Turkey at fault?
Some nights I'm tired and the kids still need to eat. Some night's I've spent all day in and out of the mall and toy stores and traffic. Lots of traffic. This is all just a justification for the next sentence. I was making the kids a frozen pizza. Yes I confess I was making them a frozen pizza. So fine right. The usual sequence goes like this: Pre-heat the oven to 400. Put the pizza in. Set timer. Wait. Remove pizza when done. Cut it and serve it.
Is shouldn't read like this: Pre-heat oven to 400. Put the pizza in. Set the timer. Put the fire out.
Yes that's what I said. I'm standing there and the light starts going on and off in the oven and I look and the element is sparking. Um bad. Step one: turn oven off. Did the fire stop? no. Still burning. Shit. Get the fire extinguisher. OK fine. I'm gonna blast it and then it'll be good. Max stops me, "Dad that's burning metal a D class fire that's an ABC fire extinguisher." Right. Let's call 911. I sent my dad to cut power to it. I'm talking to the fire department. The power to the stove goes out. The element stops burning. I call off the cavalry. The fire dept was very cool on the phone telling me if it sparks at all to call them back. No need.
The power cut was what we needed. Tomorrow? I'll be on with Sears getting them out to fix it. I think we're reaching the end of the appliances. They are almost 10 years old and the builder was pretty clear when he sold me the house that they were not top of the line. So fine. I think Jen wants stainless steel.
Maybe it's cause I ran the mutherfucker all day yesterday roasting that god forsaken bird. Stressed the element? I dunno. I thought I had the last laugh when that fucker was shipped off to the dump via Waste Management disposal, but no I think it got the last laugh fucking up my oven.
Is shouldn't read like this: Pre-heat oven to 400. Put the pizza in. Set the timer. Put the fire out.
Yes that's what I said. I'm standing there and the light starts going on and off in the oven and I look and the element is sparking. Um bad. Step one: turn oven off. Did the fire stop? no. Still burning. Shit. Get the fire extinguisher. OK fine. I'm gonna blast it and then it'll be good. Max stops me, "Dad that's burning metal a D class fire that's an ABC fire extinguisher." Right. Let's call 911. I sent my dad to cut power to it. I'm talking to the fire department. The power to the stove goes out. The element stops burning. I call off the cavalry. The fire dept was very cool on the phone telling me if it sparks at all to call them back. No need.
The power cut was what we needed. Tomorrow? I'll be on with Sears getting them out to fix it. I think we're reaching the end of the appliances. They are almost 10 years old and the builder was pretty clear when he sold me the house that they were not top of the line. So fine. I think Jen wants stainless steel.
Maybe it's cause I ran the mutherfucker all day yesterday roasting that god forsaken bird. Stressed the element? I dunno. I thought I had the last laugh when that fucker was shipped off to the dump via Waste Management disposal, but no I think it got the last laugh fucking up my oven.
posted by J.R. at 8:03 PM
3 Comments:
Wow. I'm very impressed that he knew what type of extinguisher you needed... glad it wasn't more serious!
I agree - kudos to Max for knowing about that. :-)
BTW - I LOVE my new oven. Let me know if you want to come over and check it out. =D (we also have a consumer reports account if you want to check out different models)
I love Max's line about the fire extinguisher. Proof that teenagers are capable of more than saying "shut it". :)
I'm also impressed with the Voodoo Turkey, vexing you from beyond the grave. Perhaps this is why some people eat ham or beef for Xmas. Less vendetta-ish.
--The Other Jen
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