Thursday, February 24, 2005

My claims to being domestically challenged come not from my inability to cook and clean. I can clean and do a good job. I am actually a very good cook (see my archives for some of my recipes). It is just that I would rather have needles shoved into my eyes and bamboo driven underneath my finger nails than do these things most times.

Now as it so happened, I was in need of sustenance. There being no cold cheese dogs or lunch meat in the refrigerator left to nibble on, I was forced to cook. Taking a can of ravoli from the shelf and digging out a microwave pot of the appropriate size, I prepared. I carefully plugged in the faithful can opener. Then it happened. The afore mentioned appliance was possessed, it had become the evil spawn of some domestically defiant creature. It would not grab the can. It's motor would rev. It's gears would turn. It would not accept the offering! For twenty minutes!!!!
Twenty minutes to open a fucking can with an electric can opener! No, I don't have a manual one. I struggled and cursed, I begged and pleaded to no avail. Finally i slammed the damned thing on the counter, be gone evil spawn I shouted. And it worked.

Never trust and appliance whose first six letters are PROCTO - a combining form meaning "anus," "rectum" !!!

Broomhilda worshipped the goddess at 3:42 PM

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