Thursday, October 29, 2009

Out of the freezer, into the dustbin

If you leave the freezer open, the meat is gonna go off. (Why did that sound like Dr Phil just took over my head?)
If your meat aint frozen, you’d better get the fire a burnin’.
(May as well just go with it)
You throw a raw meat party, a lotta flies are gonna gatecrash.
Salad is just there to make meat seem less aggressive. Kinda like a tie on a homicidal maniac when his trial goes to court.
Why is it that the freezer couldn’t keep the meat cold, but the salad compartment was still cold enough to freeze the lettuce leaves solid? If ya can’t keep the balance between hot and cold, you’ll end up luke-warm and rancid.

I’ll step off the ‘wise’ southern aphorism elevator for a while. I’m just going through a wee life crisis- you know, when the freezer defrosts by accident, and it seems like a personal affront? If you spill something on the floor, and you have to tidy it up, it appears that the spilt substance was out to get you? You don’t have much in the way of stuff, but what you do have starts rebelling against you in a totally personal way. Yup. Crisis.

You stop saying things like ‘I burnt my hand on the stove’, and instead say ‘the stove burned ME’.

I planted some flowers the other day. The seedlings are starting to push through the earth. I shouldn’t be angry that snails are somehow managing to eat them- that’s what snails do. But what bugs me is that I can’t catch them at it. I tried building a small hide on the roof of the house, wearing camo to make me more roofish in appearance, and lay still for 48 hours, occasionally making slothlike reaches for the paper cup to relieve myself, but the snails would not appear. They must have perfected mind-control techniques, though, for when I finally leapt to the ground, snagging my tile-camo on the gutter, and having to do a parachutists roll into the trash can, I discovered that the seedlings had been eaten. Again. Is it too much to ask that the baby alyssum and nasturtiums and black-eyed susans have a chance at life?

The trouble with railing against inanimate objects is that they stonewall you. You can’t look into their eyes and chill them with a look of contempt, or burst into tears and appeal to their maternal instincts. I have it as unhappily proven fact that when you slam your fist into a wall in frustration, the wall wins. Slamming doors doesn’t help, either, particularly when they tend to bounce back and snag your toes. The trick is to think like an inanimate object.

Next time my boss asks me why things aren’t getting done, I’ll act like a defrosting freezer, or an overheated stove, and keep my emotions deeper down than the online account to which I’ve forgotten the password. I’ll not retaliate, nor defend myself, but merely sit in cold, aloof, appliance-like malevolence. I’ll be meaner than a washing machine, man.


  1. Meaner than a washing machine? Man, you have some anger issues. I guess I can't talk, I was meaner than dot-matrix printer one time.

  2. @Herb: You've never had a washing machine shrink/dye or lose your clothes? Those things are loaded with added vitriol. I feel your pain about printers, too.

  3. Ooooh...I have to try that approach!

  4. @angel: You have to think like a broken appliance, dig deep, hate those operators...


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