Wapsi Square Forum

I meant in throwing the skillet!!!

That was a beautiful misunderstanding.

jwhouk wrote:I meant in throwing the skillet!!!

GlytchMeister wrote:That was a beautiful misunderstanding.

I miss my ex...but my aim has gotten better should he cross my path again...

DinkyInky wrote:

jwhouk wrote:I meant in throwing the skillet!!!

GlytchMeister wrote:That was a beautiful misunderstanding.

I miss my ex...but my aim has gotten better should he cross my path again...

Cast-iron frying pans aren't really that great for throwing... Metal spoons coated with hot oil, on the other hand... Doz are verra nize.

GlytchMeister wrote:

DinkyInky wrote:

jwhouk wrote:I meant in throwing the skillet!!!

GlytchMeister wrote:That was a beautiful misunderstanding.

I miss my ex...but my aim has gotten better should he cross my path again...

Cast-iron frying pans aren't really that great for throwing... Metal spoons coated with hot oil, on the other hand... Doz are verra nize.

Tell my ex that. Knocked him clean into next Tuesday with one when I was preggers. The egg pans are just perfect for throwing.

I was doing the dishes by hand, and he jokingly told me that he was too tired to goto the store to buy me brussels sprouts and pomegranates, and to get offa the bar stool I was sitting on to be able to clean, then said, "Beer me, woman!"

Threw my single egg sized cast iron at his head, it cracked a bit of molding and wall before falling straight onto the top of his noggin.

Once the concussion wore off, he got me two dozen stargazer lilies(in December), a huge carton of pomegranate seeds, and sprouts. Mind you, there was a blizzard roaring through...and I was also packing to move outta the rental.

..."Beer me, woman"?

*blusters*

I'm certainly glad he's your ex. Bastard.

GlytchMeister wrote:
I'm certainly glad he's your ex. Bastard.

I know words in four languages for that...and none of them as polite as above.

Just Old Al wrote:

GlytchMeister wrote:
I'm certainly glad he's your ex. Bastard.

I know words in four languages for that...and none of them as polite as above.

I... May have held myself back. Just a little.

GlytchMeister wrote:I'm certainly glad he's your ex. Bastard.

Just Old Al wrote:I know words in four languages for that...and none of them as polite as above.

GlytchMeister wrote:I... May have held myself back. Just a little.

I'd say that dastard is a better fit.

After all, bastard is a simple technical statement about one's parents being unmarried at the time of one's birth . . . no reflection at all on one's morals etc.

To be a dastard you have to work at it.

--FreeFlier

Eh, it gets the point across.

I do not call him names, even though I have a number of them in mind. My son will make his own decisions about the msn, no influence from me.

Karma got him, and he lost more than just us. For once, Murphy was humping someone else's leg.

DinkyInky wrote:I do not call him names, even though I have a number of them in mind. My son will make his own decisions about the msn, no influence from me.

That's a good way to handle it. I've seen people do the other . . . and it frequently bites them in the butt when the kid figures out it's lies.

DinkyInky wrote:Karma got him, and he lost more than just us. For once, Murphy was humping someone else's leg.

That's always nice.

--FreeFlier

FreeFlier wrote: . . . and it frequently bites them in the butt when the kid figures out it's lies.

The kid always figures out it's lies--even when you tell them the truth.

But life is complicated. It's a comedy that (like the news) never changes; it just happens to different people.

I have a congenital Y-chromosome condition, and am maybe too comfortable with the Marxist maxim that the jokes can't all be good. But "Beer, me woman," at a time like that?

Once upon a time, long ago, I could do the flapjack trick with a No. 8 Griswold skillet, so I well know the mass of cast iron.

A few decades ago, I got caught in the crossfire when one of my best friends had enough of her father's bullshit, heaved one of those old, square, molded-glass ashtrays across the kitchen to make the point, and incidentally whanged me in the forehead for a skip shot to the window behind me. Less mass than a single-egg skillet. So I can tell you, Inky's ex is luckier than he deserves.

The moral, kids, is never get into a fight in a kitchen that isn't yours.

Typeminer wrote:The moral, kids, is never get into a fight in a kitchen that isn't yours.

And to always know your kitchen like the back of your hand. A kitchen makes a good fortress if it's set up right.

GlytchMeister wrote:

Typeminer wrote:The moral, kids, is never get into a fight in a kitchen that isn't yours.

And to always know your kitchen like the back of your hand. A kitchen makes a good fortress if it's set up right.

Darn skippy!

The key to that is to create choke points, so that too many can't get through at once. It also helps to allow them only one point of entry, so that, should they get in, they can only come at you from one place.

Also, having a weapon in easy reach no matter where you are helps. Make sure you've got room to swing should it come to hand-to-hand combat.

Should you become cornered, remember that they become the path of least resistance.

Also, even if you hate spicy food, keep some of the most potent spices you can get in a powder form. Make sure it's as fine as you can get it so that it makes a nice cloud they'd have to go through.

My rental had a Jackie Chan film setup...and I used my space in as comically precise a manner as possible.

Heaven forbid you make me grab "the attitude adjuster".

It is currently tucked away due to me desperately needing to reorganise my kitchen. Not a big deal since I have several knifeblocks handy.

DO WANT

Awww, no bloodstains...

(for intimidation factor. I'm not a serial killer, I promise)

I doubt any of her knives are stained. She seems like the sort of person who is very particular when it comes to caring for her weapons.
Uh. I mean, her kitchen implements of optional destruction.