Definition: In this task, you are given a Reddit post as a text. Your task is to generate a title for this text. The title should start with "TIFU by", followed by a situation that caused humor. The title should contain 7-12 words, ideally.
Input: Text: it happened last night. my girlfriend invited her two sisters over to our apartment to have a little get together and also so that one of her sisters could drop off her puppy (a little 8 week old corgi named banjo) for us to watch while she is visiting ireland for a week. usually these get togethers happen at a place other than our apartment, so when we've had our fill of interaction with her family, we can up and leave (with our hearing intact). while my girlfriend and her sisters are fawning over the puppy, i'm steadily killing some brews while playing video games in an attempt to block out their conversation, which is growing louder and louder by the minute. all i can do is pray for their stay to be short-lived.

not tonight. they're entrenched in my apartment. there is no escape route. there will be no quiet tonight. 

so, as the conversation goes on we eventually have dinner (a gourmet dish of manwich and mac & cheese). though i'm starving, i don't want to be rude and only take a little bit of food, hoping that the long game strategy will prevail and there'll be leftovers for me to scavenge from later.

fast forward a few(6-ish) hours, all is silent except for the ringing in my ears and the quiet clatter of beer bottles as i clean up my night works. girlfriend is asleep. sister 1 is asleep. sister 2 left a few minutes ago. the time is right. it has to be now. my boozy gaze fixes on the fridge. manwich, i'm coming for you. i rise from the couch and perform the drunk pre-flight diagnostic check: orientation, obstacles and outfit. 

all systems go. 

the 25 feet to the kitchen is traversed with little effort. dodged a few pet toys and a chair that were identified as potential hazards in the obstacle part of the checklist, but other than that, it went smoothly. now i stand before the fridge. i open it and am greeted by the lovely sight of a tupperware container filled with a few servings manwich. in those few seconds before grabbing the container, the politeness from earlier in the night is shattered by an alcohol fueled appetite. i will destroy you, manwich.

with a muffled *pop* the microwave opens and i place my feast inside. i judge this container of manwich to be in the "45 second" category; a category that most of my drunk food falls into mostly due to the behemoth of a microwave we have. 45 seconds minimizes the chance of me burning my mouth but it also heats the food to an adequate temperature without me having to impatiently wait the extra 15 seconds to go into the "1 minute category". pressing the buttons quickly, so that the beeping doesn't wake anyone, i enter the commands. *cook time.* *00:46.* *start.*

the familiar hum fills the air and a the incandescent glow illuminates my face. watching the timer count down, i catch it at the last second before it beeps. with *00:01* displayed, i pop the microwave back open, grab my feast, and shut off the microwave before it can remind me the final second is on the clock. 

then it happened. i got sloppy. i didn't do another checklist.

as i am holding the container loosely in one hand by its upper edges to avoid touching any potential hot spots, a wild banjo appears under my feet. startled by his presence and trying not to crush him, i shift all my focus to making sure my feet avoid him. during this whole interaction with banjo, i forget i'm holding the container of heated manwich and it slips from my grasp. 

smack! the flat underside of the container impacts the tile floor at a zero angle. flat surface strikes flat surface and a geyser of manwich explodes from the container and meaty projectiles go everywhere like shrapnel from a landmine. i’m hit. banjo’s hit. my walls, ceiling and kitchen appliances are now adorned with a hue and texture akin to diarrhea. as the shellshock wears off, i clear the manwich from my eyes and face. silence fills the air once more, punctuated by the occasional munch and grunt from banjo, who is now living in a heaven which is the result of my sudden descent into a hamburger hell. 

i cleaned up most of the mess before the drunken lethargy set in and i called it a night. apparently, it was good enough clean-up that my girlfriend and her sister were none the wiser. i however, couldn’t stop glancing at the manwich skidmarks on my kitchen ceiling as a result of my half-assed cleaning efforts from the night before. so, after work, it looks like i’ll be doing a deep cleaning of the kitchen, all the while trying to explain to my girlfriend what happened.

TIFU by giving myself a man meat facial.