|mood||:|| down a few|
I am quite possibly the only World Class Kitchen Impaired Idiot you'll ever know who can almost kill herself and have battle scars from cooking.
It wasn't entirely my fault. I was making dinner with Mother-In-Law Woman. I was chopping stuff up. When I'm cooking* on my own, I know when I'll be done, so I can fire up the stove when I'm almost done and the oil in the wok will be just hot enough when I'm ready to go. She cranked up the stove for me a little too early.
Wet vegetables. Smoking hot oil. You get the picture. As soon as the veggies went in, *ka-BLAMMO*. I'm really lucky it missed my eye.
But that's not as funny as telling all my co-workers that it's the latest rage among schoolkids in Japan to wear a Hello Kitty or Sanrio bandaid, for no apparent reason, on the forehead, fashionably tilted, just over one eye.
* By which I mean "randomly heating stuff up so that it results in something vaguely food-like in quality".