Once again, going to school with Jesus *cough*, I mean, mom has been difficult. Example… last night.
Our class is divided into teams for all our labs. Each team works to replicate the food of the week created by the chef. We get to divide our teams finished products and take them home.
Last night we made garlic herb focaccia bread topped with parmesan and salt. When my team pulled ours out of the oven, we placed it on the cooling rack. A guy, who I don’t particularly like at all from another team, decided to walk over to the cooling rack to feel the texture of his team’s bread. THEN - after touching his bread, licking his fingers, and while we were watching - he stuck his fingers into our bread.
Now, I’m sure this will come as a surprise (ha ha) but how do I put this delicately…
I have a hyper-aggressive personality.
I’m a cool gal, until you do something stupid like…
Put your slobbery mitts on my bread.
I looked at mom and immediately buttoned my lip. Otherwise I might have worked in the word ‘ass’ while not in reference to a donkey, and she would have knocked me up the side of the head.
I’ve seen the damage the woman can do with an ironing board on my brothers back. I’d hate to see her capabilities with a 50 pound Kitchen Aid mixer.
So I did the next best thing, told my teammate, who also is hyper aggressive. The girl ‘calmly’ asks him about the bread to which he responds by yelling, ‘Deal with it!’
Seriously dude? That’s how you respond?
I look over at mom again who is writing in her notebook and double checking the bread in the mixer and I immediately grab onto the table in an effort to keep my hands under control. I’m imagining explaining an ‘assault and battery’ charge to pops wouldn’t be easy – that and I spent any potential bail money on a retaining wall for the front yard.
Dang. I knew that was a mistake.
I managed to keep calm the rest of class and after class I asked mom what she thought about the situation.
‘Huh?’ she looked at me quizzically.
‘The guy! The guy who touched our bread and yelled at us!’ I said.
‘Huh?’ she said still confused.
‘Are you joking me?!?! All that self-restraint for nothing!?!?!’ I gasped.
OK. Now I know the level of concentration the woman has in regards to cooking. If I can keep the thumps from kicking the guys butt synchronized to the thumps of the bread in the mixer, she’ll never notice.
Slobbery Finger Dude.