Ever wonder just how appliances know exactly when to screw up in order to provoke maximum irritation (aka volcanic cursing & swearing)?
Got home late last night after fighting with a recalcitrant sytem at a restaurant for which I provide tech support. Have even shopped for groceries on the way home. Exhausted & very hungry, desperately needing something hot & comforting to eat. Threw a can of soup into a large mug & put it in the microwave to heat up. Was very careful to obey all the rules. Set it for less than full power. Put plastic cover loosely on mug to prevent splashing. Hit start. Went about getting cheese & crackers and a drink ready.
A minute or so before finishing, the microwave belches a startlingly loud BRAAAAAAP. I open the door to behold all 3 walls, the roof & turnatable, and the inside of the door completely coated with my steak & potato soup. It looks like someone has had an explosive shit in my microwave.
Much loud cursing, swearing and assorted profanity ensues for an extended period of time. Did you know you can actually question the parentage of inanimate objects?
Half my dinner is now dripping out of said evil appliance, and the remaining half isn't even hot. But I can't use the blasted machine to finish the heating process. So I consume the tepid remains of what should have been a lovely hot, tasty, filling meal, and then make myself a bagel with a schmear of smoked salmon cream cheese to finish filling me up.
The microwave? I left it to 'stew' (heh) in it's own mess. Serves it right.
Except that now I must go break out the chisel and 80grit sandpaper to attempt to return said device to a useable state. Assuming it truly can read my mind, it'll never pull that stunt again. Not knowing the thoughts of what I'd really like to do to it running through my mind as I scrub.
I keep expecting the BATFEMRE (Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, Explosives, and Model Rocket Engines) to assume an abusive level of control over microwaveable potatos, potato-chunks, and potato-chunk-laden food products.
It's only a matter of time before someone builds a bobtail-truck-sized microwave, fills it with potatos, and sets it on nine minutes at high power near a major public venue.
Posted by: homebru | Saturday, March 06, 2004 at 09:30 AM
Ah yes, this is why a microwave does not live in my apartment (c:
Posted by: A Recovering Liberal | Friday, March 05, 2004 at 08:10 AM
Are you sure you're describing a microwave? Sounds suspiciously like my ex, to me.
Buyer Beware! *heh*
Good luck on the dinner replay, and thanks for your great help with my blog today.
Jim
Sloop New Dawn
Galveston, TX
Posted by: Jim | Thursday, March 04, 2004 at 09:42 PM
Don't scrub it. Wet a cloth towel and put it on the turntable and hammer it on High for at least three minutes, then let it sit and soak up the steam for another 10. After which, use said towel to simply wipe out the interior of the micro.
Posted by: Rivrdog | Tuesday, March 02, 2004 at 11:59 PM
I have'nt laughed this hard in weeks!!I'm sure if someone was walking by my R/V they'd think I FINALLY cracked.
THANKS
Posted by: loiq | Tuesday, March 02, 2004 at 04:44 AM
WONDERFUL description of the mess. :)
Posted by: Greg | Monday, March 01, 2004 at 11:14 PM
rotflmao...Jeezus, Dude!
And, oh hell yeah...not only is it possible to question the parentage of inanimate objects, you can also make 'em cry.....I know. I've done it.
Piss ME off, will they?
BWHAHAHAHA!
Posted by: Stevie | Monday, March 01, 2004 at 08:04 AM