cornish hen flambe

i'm not sure if everyone does this but after a date, i tend to replay the whole night in my head reliving the stupid mistakes, the foot-in-mouth moments (and boy were there a lot of them) and the downright retarded things i did.

And now, back at the ranch, for your further enjoyment, i bring you: Mike's Retarded Move of the Week:

on friday night i had a few folks over for dinner, including one person that i'd like to fool into believing that i'm not a complete idiot. i know my strength in the kitchen is not in the kitchen at all, but on the grill so i go to the bible and pick out a recipe.

Midway through cooking, I go out to check on the hens and walk into a whole lot of smoke. i open up the lid and there is a hen on fire. and not just burning. the thing had ignited. i move the chicken away from the flame and start turning it to try to put it out. nothing. i start swearing and sweating. i can't fuck this up. no way. so i do what any normal person would do, i pick the thing up with some long tongs and shake the piss out of it. flaming pieces of bacon, formerly wrapped around the hen, chicken skin, and mini haley's comets go flying all over the balcony, the house, and me. i succeed in putting out the poultry, go back inside, change, and own up to my mistake.

with the exception of that, dinner went pretty well. now if i could just think before speaking, then i'd be set.