Let me back up:
Thursday was a fight night, which meant that Ben and I were going to Andrew's to watch us some MMA over chicken schnitzel sandwiches (a fight-related staple since Andrew's first jiu jitsu tournament). Ben and I stopped at Safeway beforehand to grab necessary supplies, such as chicken, beer, and something for dessert. This is where Ben, yet again, goes a little bonky for The Sugar. With a hunger that can only be described as Delphic, Ben bought seven boxes of Girl Scout cookies (two Thin Mints and five Samoas). We brought one of the boxes with us to breakfast.
Now, back to breakfast. Ben chimes in that we should dice up the cookies and toss them in the pancake batter. Coconut, caramel, chocolate, what's not to love? I flat-out rejected the idea (can't we have a breakfast that doesn't cause diabetes, Ben?), but Augustine, being equally buggy for The Sugar, diced up three cookies and threw them into the batter before I could say or do anything to protect my glycemic index.
The results were actually really tasty, so Ben deserves a nod for his sugar-inspired creativity. Augustine, however, needs to be locked someplace safe; he made a sandwich out of bacon, Girl Scout cookie pancakes, and more freaking Girl Scout cookies. The culinary universe as I know it has unraveled a little, and I'm frankly a little scared.
Anyway, I also mentioned a fight. I have two rules about cooking: don't touch that, and get the hell out of my kitchen. It should also be noted that any kitchen in which I am working becomes my kitchen, and "that" also refers to dishes. Stephen knows this, Ben knows this, Augustine should know this. And yet...
I try to shoo Augustine away from the dishes, which is hard to do even at my height. I get him away long enough to "soak" the bacon pan (and by that, I mean completely clean it), which peeves him to no end. Aimee comes in for a goodbye hug, which Augustine uses as a chance to maul us rugby-style and usurp my dish-washing throne. I grab a dish towel and attempt to choke him with it, but he is simply too tall. Jesus loves him more, and I end up ass-first on the floor of the kitchen.
But don't trust me; trust Aimee, who witnessed and documented the whole thing. Her comments are in print below each photo, with any comments of mine in italics:
The components: bacon!! Samoas, and Samoa pancakes.
Hiding the amazing combo. See, Augustine is hiding it because he knows that it's wrong.
The cookie pancake bacon sandwich bring consumed. And Kala's mind springs a leak.
More eating. This is where Augustine starts to go a little buggy from the sugar, as you can see from the chocolate dripping from the side of his mouth. He reminds me of a zombie right here. Creepy. 
Unsuspecting Kala noticing that the dishes are being done. You holy bastard. 
A fight ensued. He started it!
It got kind of rough. Yes, my feet are completely off of the ground.
And Father Augustine won. Because Jesus is on his side.
This is quite possibly the most brilliant thing I've read in ages and it totally cheered me up. Oh to be a fly on the wall in your kitchen (or perhaps just outside for safety!). :)
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