I'm ready for my close up!

For those of you who did not know me as a freshman in college, I have a story to tell...

Dorm life is a myriad of hot pockets, micro-wavable meals and cereal. One day, I got out of my 11:00 class early enough to feel like I had adequate time to run across campus to my room to grab lunch before my next class at 12:30. I probably had something like half an hour to get to my room, make and eat lunch, and get to my next class. By the time I get to my room, however, I have a mere 12 or so minutes to get alllll the way to my next class so I shove a Mexican spring roll into the microwave and pull it out piping hot a few minutes later. I always ate these with a fork because I knew about their explosive molten-queso tendencies, but because I was hurried, I bit straight into it. My eyes immediately flooded with tears from the pain of the hot cheese that had streaked down my lip and chin. I threw down that dadgum devil roll and ran to class, in which I held an icy water bottle to my lower face for the entire hour and a half. It didn't do any good. The damage had been done. It scabbed over quite nicely and did not, in turn, leave a scar. I felt like such a fat kid because hot microwaved cheese ultimately marred my face for a week...

I say all of this to say "It just happened again." Not on my face, albeit, but it did happen again just now, while I was making dinner. I cooked up some Lipton noodles,and as I pulled the pan off the stove, the spoon flipped backwards out of the pan and down toward the floor. I jumped out of the way but a hot, tiny square noodle flew into the air and ultimately stuck to my ankle. It was quite painful. At first I thought I had been splattered, then i realized it was ATTACHED TO ME AND BURNING MY FLESH! Anyway, I can still feel it. Even as I sit here right now, eating those very noodles that, when used for harm and not good, can cause devastatingly small red marks. See?

And Now for Something Completely Different:

There are such strange things about the apartment we're staying in this summer. Strange thing number one is today's edition: Hanging Things...

Yep, in a corner behind a lamp. What is that even?What is this, even? How old are the people who live here? I am not opposed to having an inner child, but when that inner child tells you to hang a pocketed pooh-bear shoe-holder on a dimmer switch at the age of 25, he or she may have some repressed childhood feelings that need to be worked out in the proper care of a professional.
This scrubbie thing is hanging on a lone nail OUTSIDE of the bathroom.

Why? There was another in the other corner to match it, but I pulled it down that night we blocked the entries to the living room so we could capture the air. I wonder what purpose this serves when the regular inhabitants live here. (and "No. There's not a magical passageway behind there. That was the first thing I thought, too.)

And for one last bit-o-fun:

I had this Pinot Noir Soda with my lunch today and it was delicious. It also comes in Chardonnay and Rose. It's called Vignette: A Wine Country Soda.