I almost died on Saturday night.
But let me back up a bit.
On Saturday night, our lovely friends Brian and Brandi came over to barbecue and get their asses whooped in Wii Mario Kart. Have I ever mentioned here on the blog that Scott and I are experts at Mario Kart? It is truly intimidating to see us in action. If you are a 10 year old boy.
Anyway, we were very much looking forward to seeing them. Brian had been marinating steaks for approximately 2 days. We always make Brian cook when they come over because he does things like, well, marinate steaks for 2 days. You can't beat that. Anyway, these steaks were something special. They were from Brian and Brandi's own personal 1/2 cow, which Brandi had lovingly dubbed Elsie. Or was it Bessie? I'm confusing my cow names. Anyway, we were looking forward to seeing what Elsie/Bessie had to offer as Brandi and Brian assured us she was delicious.
Are any vegetarians still reading this? Sorry guys, I'm from Nebraska - it can't be helped.
So after awhile, Scott and Brian decided it was time to get down to barbecuing business and fired up the grill to pre-heat. Then they went to the store, leaving Brandi and I behind with the kids. Brandi was reading one of the twins a story while I was stuffing the other one into his pajamas and lord knows what Ashley was doing when all of a sudden Brandi started pointing out the window and making strange sounds. I turned around and saw that the grill was on fire.
Let me repeat for emphasis. The grill was on FIRE. Like flames shooting out in every direction fire. Like "Holy shit, the grill is on fire!" fire. Like "Oh my God, I am going to burn to death!" fire. Brandi was the brave one out of the two of us...she ran out and turned the thing off. I cowered inside and called Scott on my cell phone.
"The grill is on FIRE!"
"The grill is on FIRE!!!!!!!"
"Well go turn it off."
Now, I must digress here to let it be known that I have a tendency to be a bit, shall we say....over-sensitive. Oh fine, I'm a drama queen. So Scott didn't really take me seriously. In fact, I think he even told me at one point that it wasn't going to kill me.
Au contraire, mon frere. Or whatever you say when a barbecue is trying to kill you.
I hunted around under the sink for our fire extinguisher, which apparently we didn't bring with us when we moved here from Saint Louis. (Note to Self: Buy new fire extinguisher.) Not finding anything, I ran out to the backyard with Brandi to try and appear useful by yelling at the barbecue to stop burning. I think it helped because it finally started to burn itself out just as Brian and Scott got home.
After it was all over, I was still a little freaked, because OMG FIRE. But then I got even more freaked when I realized that Brandi and I had been running around outside next to a flaming barbecue within inches of a propane tank.
Yes, you read that right. We could have been EXPLODED to death. That's even scarier than fire. Even non-drama queens would agree.
R.I.P. Barbecue. You lived a good life, even if you turned on me at the end. And R.I.P. Elsie/Bessie. Sorry you had to be cooked under the broiler instead of on the barbecue. You were still delicious even so.