I’m a woman of many talents.
I photobomb like it’s my career, my dainty laugh makes 80-year-old men want to fight me, I have a knack for getting strange dudes to send me dick pics and I’m on the brink of being Nashville’s cray cray cat lady. However, I recently uncovered a new ability of mine when I almost burned my entire apartment complex to the ground with a microwave and a glittery paper plate.
It all started with these gorgeous red paper plates, rimmed in silver sparkles because an ordinary white hue was all too normal for me to purchase.
Maybe it was because I had
five one too many Skinny Pirates the night before but I thought it was a good idea to throw the shimmering piece of flimsy cardboard into the microwave in order to heat up chicken fingers (also from the previous evening that may or may not have sat on the counter all night long).
Upon closing the appliance door and setting the timer for 30 seconds, I stepped away from the kitchen, distracted by one of New Cat’s many attempts to commit suicide by sitting on the banister of my second balcony porch.
In the mere seconds I was away rescuing my idiot pussy, something started happening in the microwave.
A stench started to quickly fill the air.
By the time I got back to the kitchen, flames were bursting through the microwave door as the timer counted down to zero.
For a moment, all I could think about was the loss of my chicken tenders. My hungover ass then snapped out of it and flung the door of the appliance open to find a smoldering, disintegrating plate with burnt to a crisp pieces of poultry attached to it.
Mourning the loss of my food like broken high heel, I was further pissed off thinking that the manufacturer of this piece of shit plate didn’t list any danger warnings about putting a metallic glitter plate into the microwave for all of the dumb asses out there who apparently don’t know foil starts on fire in a microwave like yours truly.
Then I turned the crispy plate over.
Once I realized I wasn’t even close to being the most mediocre genius on the planet, my feelings of grief were geared toward the loss of my beloved red (because white is too normal) microwave that now smelled like a year-long bonfire had taken place inside and ceased to run properly.
Much to my hungover delight, Target (my mothership) had a shiny red appliance just waiting for me on the store shelf later that day.
Forced to utilize my lingering brain cells, I tried to figure out how to unplug the old glitter cooker from behind the refrigerator without having to move the 250 lb unit.
You guys, it’s hard being a blonde with so many talents.
Who wants to come over for a fancy chicken tenders dinner and watch me put my new microwave to use tonight?
Don’t worry, I got new glitter plates.