i'm a moron, or how bondo got a taste for pesto

Imagine if you will, that you are not so patiently waiting for adoption news and that said wait is slowly killing off your brain cells one by one. Lets say that you find yourself with a few spare minutes in the afternoon in which you decide to go ahead an prepare the pasta salad for dinner in an effort to be efficient. It would need to chill anyhow, so the timing seems perfect. You also happen to be wearing your new pink shoes and a newish pink shirt. You read the directions on the pesto-esque dressing package. It says to mix in a large bowl. "Nonsense", you think. "It only calls for 1/2 a cup of boiling water. I can do this in my dressing shaker".

No you can't. Ok, you can, but it is a very, very bad plan. If you do, a fountain of searing hot fluid will erupt out of said dressing shaker and you will find your kitchen covered in a thin layer of pesto. Though delightful as cuisine, it is not unlike concrete when employed as home decor. Also, your shirt will be ruined, and your shoes will be full of muck. The dog, however, will hop around in glee, ravenously licking the pesto from the floor as you frantically tear off your shirt to throw it in the washer. He will then follow you around licking his chops, because you clearly reek of his new favorite snack.

Oh yeah, and this will happen to your hair.

So, the next time you find yourself in this situation, just tell yourself no. The dressing shaker is a bad idea. The person who wrote the directions is smarter than you. Sad, but true.

That having been said, I'm off to chisel pesto off of my cabinets. Hooray.