I fucking hate my refrigerator. I hate it with the burning intensity of a million exploding suns. If I could frame my refrigerator for murder and conspire to have it sentenced to life in a horrible urine-soaked hellhole where it suffered daily dry anal rapes, I would have done so a long time ago.
A couple of years ago, I was visiting relatives in Chicago with my eldest son when my wife called to inform me that the refrigerator was out. As in broken, fucked up, and generally incapable of keeping food at a temperature lower than that of the room it is in. But not to fear, she would go out with her mother and find a new one! And this is where the problem started: My wife likes the fridge style where the freezer is a door on the left and the fridge is the door on the right. This design is known in the industry as “bullshit”.
The previous fridge had the freezer on the bottom and the fridge on top, meaning each had very wide shelves where you could put lots of food and still have it be visible and easily retrieved. But my wife, who later claimed that she didn’t like the previous fridge because she had to bend down to get stuff from the freezer, decided to get the side by side model. So now I can never see what’s in the fridge because everything is crammed in there so tightly that I’d have to have the patience of an archeologist on a dig to get to the hidden contents of any given shelf.
Worse yet, I’ve found myself unable to find things in the fridge when we were almost out of food. This fucking thing is packed even when it’s empty. This is because you go to the grocery store and think, “Do we have mustard? I haven’t seen mustard in the fridge in ages. I better get some mustard.” And then you get home to discover that there is a large mustard deposit way in the back of the middle shelf, and now you’ve made it one container larger. Over time your fridge becomes a repository for condiments with about 3 cubic inches dedicated to the food you put condiments on.
And fucking forget putting anything even remotely wide in there. You have pizza leftovers? Now you need to wrap that shit in Saran Wrap or dirty some Tupperware in order to get it in the fridge. Whereas before I could just toss the box in the fridge and be done with it. Fuck side by side fridges, fuck the people that make them, the people that prefer them, and what the hell, fuck the people that transport them too. I really hate my fridge.
On to non-appliance hating topics: As I mentioned last week, my family and I went to the state fair. We had a great time, and we successfully avoided ridiculous foodstuffs like deep fried gravy and curly dough. But you know what else they have on the menu? (Warning: Gag factor high) The Maggot Melt. Yep, bread, cheese, and live maggots. I don’t know about you, but I try to avoid maggots in my meals. It’s why I don’t eat at Arby’s.
Also, if you worked the stupid fucking “ride” called the Moscow Circus at the Arizona State Fair last Thursday around 4:30, then fuck you. My five year old son was walking in this fun-house attraction when he fell down and the collar of his shirt became entangled in the moving sidewalk rollers. This quickly progressed to the level of pant-shitting fear and were it not for the quick thinking tweener girl behind him, it might have ended very badly instead of with a torn shirt and a bad scrape on the neck/shoulder. The dude taking tickets up front, meanwhile, was just a few feet away and when he heard my son’s screams, turned and looked at a young child being sucked into some machinery and then had the professional reaction of turning the other way and pointedly ignoring the whole thing. I’d wish bad things on you dude, but you’re a carnie. Your life is gonna be full of bad things anyway.
On to the week you missed while you were trying to figure out if you had any fucking pickles in your fridge:
- On Sunday, we learned the answer to the question: Who would win a steel cage match: The Brady Bunch or 100 five year olds? The answer, of course, is everyone who witnessed it.
- On Monday, I found Donald Duck getting a blow job to be hilarious while I was in the E/R. The other patients? Not so much.
- On Wednesday, I prepared to go to a place that tried to sell me maggots and kill my son.
- On Thursday, we watched in horror as a supposedly grown man made an utter ass of himself in public.
One last note: If you have a hypothetical question you’d like answered, email it to me or post it in the comments below. I will pick the best one and pretend to answer it seriously while drinking beer and leering at the girls in the Fresh Beat Band.
Please hang on to any and all loose articles, and enjoy this week.