It's Raining Raspberry Vinaigrette

So I've been a pretty terrible roommate lately and I decided I needed to make it up to her by making her a kick ass dinner. I was told my Chicken Marsala, Marinara Parmesan Risotto, and Raspberry Vinaigrette Spinach salad was a "5 Star" meal so decided that should be the meal I cook. I spend an hour cooking for Jamey and get dinner all nicely plated for the kids and her and we all sit down as one big family at the table to eat. I sit down last and am immersed in catch up conversation since we hadn't talked in a few days. Without looking I reach for the bottle of raspberry vinaigrette and proceed to vigorously shake the bottle to mix up all the ingredient. The problem? In the midst of all the great conversation and taking care of everyone I failed to see that I had already removed the cap off the bottle and when I shook the bottle the contents proceeded to fly everywhere. And when I say everywhere--I mean EVERYWHERE!!!! Big, flowing streaks of black speckled pink liquid are racing down Jamey's white walls...and all over my body. I gasp, cover my mouth with my hand, and Jamey's eyes get as big as saucers as she liked to have a VERY clean house. (The basement is trashed from me still moving in--thus why the "I'm sorry I'm a terrible roommate" make up dinner). The kids hysterically start laughing. I hysterically start laughing. Jamey starts hysterically laughing (and then makes a mad dash for the kitchen to grab a towel) I can barely contain myself as I am dripping with raspberry vinaigrette. The kids are shouting that I have it in my hair and on my shirt and down my body and in my ear. We scrub furiously at the walls to try and get it all cleaned up before any reaches her white carpet. Cons: I didn't get a picture of the wall (which would have been hilarious for all to see) and it did get all over one of my favorite shirts. Pro: The shirt was only $3.00, so if the oil doesn't want to come out in the wash (despite having like a whole bottle of stain stick on it) then it isn't a complete waste of money.

Later we have a conversation with Jakobe (age 8) at the dinner table about how you should talk to women. AKA--The rules of how to deal with women and their mind games. Such things as: Do I look fat in these jeans? Can you tell that I've lost weight? Is she prettier than me? etc., etc., etc....
Jamey: If a woman asks you do I look fat you just tell her she looks beautiful or you won't get any kisses.
Jakobe: Well if she's fat then I wouldn't want to kiss her.
Jamey: Jakobe!!!!

Oh lordy!