Potato chips on fire

Today, I have a story about our downstairs neighbors.

So in case I never mentioned (which I might not have), we moved to a new place. A really nice place, where we have the top two stories of a three story house. But Arielle, you might say, why would you ever want to leave such a tiny apartment that had such a great entertainment value crazy girl upstairs? Well, as it turns out, our new neighbors are shaping up to be about equal!

So last Thursday we were getting ready to go out for Sam's birthday, when they rang our doorbell and asked us if there was smoke coming from our house. Why would there be smoke coming from our house? we asked in return.

Oh, because they smelled and saw smoke in their house, and they were wondering if it was coming FROM UPSTAIRS instead of, I don't know, THEIR HOUSE.

We went to check anyway, even though we were up in the kitchen (which is on the top floor) and the only place we could smell smoke was downstairs, near our door, which is connected to their kitchen. So we suggested maybe the smoke was coming from their kitchen, which it was.

But that's not all.

No, not only did they not realize that smoke was coming from their kitchen, they couldn't figure out that it was coming from a bag of potato chips that they had put in a broiler because they thought it was a cabinet. And even better? They put the chips there because one of their housemates had been eating too many chips, so they were hiding them from her.

Oh lord, they are going to burn our house down.