My kids like to remind me every now and then about the time I worked so hard to make green tomato mincemeat pies completely from scratch. And then forgot the sugar. They named them "pickle pies" and won't let me live that down. Then there was the year I made pumpkin pie. And forgot the sugar. Those went straight in the trash.
Whatever possessed me to think I could make a pineapple upside-down cake?! Alone. In the kitchen. By myself. I thoroughly cleaned the cake pan that hasn't been used in several years. I had a lovely layer of melted butter and brown sugar in the bottom of it, evenly spread. I added the pineapple. Carefully fished out maraschino cherries from the jar, one at a time. Poured the batter in the pan, put it in the oven, and started to clean up the kitchen. That's when I discovered the eggs sitting in the separate bowl, where I'd cracked them to make sure I didn't put eggshells in the cake.
Quickly looking around to make sure no one was watching (forget the fact that I was alone in the house with the dog), I grabbed the pan out of the oven, dumped the whole d*mn thing back in the bowl, mixed in the eggs, and then poured the giant mess back in the pan. It took a bit longer to bake, but wouldn't you know the ugly thing tastes pretty darn good. I need a nap now.