Carlos in the kitchen = bad

Carlos and I have an arrangement in the house. It's quite simple:

1. I cook
2. Carlos cleans

Sometimes, however, Carlos wants to help out in the kitchen. I originally thought that this was good idea, it would be like having a sous chef and things would be made twice as fast.

In reality it was more like having a sous chef who wanted to end his life. I should have seen it coming, there were so many signs signifying that this cooking expedition was heading downhill.

1. Carlos enters the kitchen shirtless. I can't believe I missed this one, I know we don't own any aprons, but we were going to fry things. He should of had a shirt on.
2. Carlos had arranged the pot of boiling water (we were making spaghetti) behind the frying pan full of oil.
3. He had just woken up.

And this is what happened.


We were preparing spaghetti and meatballs and I was shaping more balls for Carlos to cook. I had him watch the pasta and occasionally moving the meatballs around so they wouldn't burn.

So far so good.

Then, Carlos decides to test the pasta. Being as groggy as he is, Carlos grabs a pair of tongs and lifts up a 'tong-ful' of pasta (I usually just test one strand!). He brings the pasta close to his mouth while standing close the frying pan.

The amount of pasta in the tongs combined with the fact that they had not been drained lead to some pasta slipping.

Wet noodle falls in oil. Oil and water = boom!

So, oil flies on to Carlos' bare chest, he screams, scares the s**t out of me and causes me to drop the meatballs.

fml.

He survived to eat