Fessing up..

OK, time to give you a littel more of my twisted history:


Back just before I moved out of my parent's house, my brother and I were actually starting to get along better.

One week, my mom needed to go to a conference, and she and my dad decided to make it a kind of "getaway" and left the two of us home alone for that weekend.

Big mistake.

Huge, really.

Yeah, I was the "responsible" one, and could cook, clean, and keep house.

But when the taskmaster isn't there to crack the whip, do you really think that I'd do something like that?

Newp.

In fact, for that weekend the house became a kind of "anti" Jormengrund house.

All of the rules HAD to be broken. Not just by my brother and I, but by each and every person who came along to visit as well!

Toilet seats left up. Dishes piled in the sink. Laundry sitting in stinky piles all over bedrooms and utility room. Vauum sitting neglected in the hall closet. TV was left on, and dirty plates scattered around the living room instead of eating at the table... The list goes on and on..

However, the one act that took the cake happened the Sunday before they got home.

My brother and I are HUGE fans of boneless country-style cut barbecue ribs.

I've got a "secret" recipe that I break out at least once a year. The family literally waits every year for them, and I never get leftovers. They turn out delicious, and so tender that they fall apart before you can get them on your plate.

Add to this potatoes, and some kind of greens for those health-consious nuts, and you've got a perfect meal!

Well, because I had a job and income, I went and get a good size pack of ribs, and we set about to make ribs for ourselves.

During the cooking, I needed to add some barbecue sauce, because the basting didn't look "just right". While opening this sauce, I found out two things:

1. When air is trapped under a screw-top lid, the pressure doesn't release until the top's off again.

2. BBQ sauce flies much further than you'd think.

Yeah. It shot about four feet across the kitchen and splattered on my brother and the kitchen table.

Now this initial incident was a complete accident. I'm being totally honest here. I didn't intend for the sauce to shoot out, I didn't think of trying to splatter my brother with sauce for the fun of it, and I had no clue that there was air trapped in the bottle.

However, what followed became legendary for a few years to come.

Once my brother realized that he had sticky BBQ sauce on the side of his face and in his hair, he just _had_ to retaliate.

So, he calmly sauntered to the sink, and cleaned up, then surreptitiously opened the refrigerator, and grabbed the bottle of mustard.

I'll let you know that my mom insisted on keeping the ketchup and mustard in the restaurant bottles, so we had these little yellow and red squeeze bottles..

These made perfect "pistols" for condiments.

Yeah. We made a serious mess.

After about 15-20 minutes of mayhem, we calmed down.

That's when we started to look around, and notice the utter devestation that used to be the interior of our kitchen and dining room.

Ketchup, mustard and BBQ sauce over lights, on the ceiling, walls, pictures, carpets, hardwood floors, dog, fireplace, stove, etc...

It kind of looked like the inside of a "spin art" booth you can occasionally see at the fair, only not as pretty.

We spent the rest of the weekend cleaning up.

However, from time to time we'd come across another "strange" stain, and clean it up. When one of us would see the other, we'd fall into complete hysterics over it.

We finally came clean with them about two years ago, and my mom said something that I don't think I'll EVER forget:

"That explains the ketchup I found in the dishwasher! I wondered how it had gotten in there!"

Yeah.

Don't ask, just chuckle and enjoy!