dear microwave,
this is where i say, 'it's not you, it's me.' but the truth is that it really is you.
in the morning, it's not cute when you take 2.22 minutes to warm up my 10 ounces of water. nor is it cute it takes 3.45 minutes to warm up my good morning pizza.
and at night, the way you take EXactly 2.46 minutes to either undercook or burn my popcorn, that's poetry. i never know which surprise i'm going to get. well, i kind of know when that acrimonious burnt smell comes wafting through, yeah, i'm cursing you, bitch. popcorn button my ass.
oh and don't start me on the 4.44 minutes to cook frozen spinach. there is no way in hell that it takes almost five minutes to do that, you lazy bastard. my mother's microwave can cook a turkey in ten minutes. almost five for spinach, come now.
take this as your warning: if you up and get all deathbed on me, i'm not going to repair, i'm getting a smaller one that will fit in my cabinet, not my bookshelf. the bookshelf thing isn't cute, dear. yes, it's a new york apartment and i'm glad i don't shower in the kitchen like one particular drag queen of note, but really, you're stinking up my books. and you're getting old. so get with it or pack your bags.
oh and yes, i know you readers picked up on this, but for years, i have been putting things in the microwave with patterned numbers: 2.10, 3.33, 1.23, etc. i learned it from my grandfather, the coolest cat, and, really, it makes as much sense as anything else. don't mock me, you have your idiosyncrasies, too, my dear... and i've already told you repeatedly that i'm not right in the head.
in the morning, it's not cute when you take 2.22 minutes to warm up my 10 ounces of water. nor is it cute it takes 3.45 minutes to warm up my good morning pizza.
and at night, the way you take EXactly 2.46 minutes to either undercook or burn my popcorn, that's poetry. i never know which surprise i'm going to get. well, i kind of know when that acrimonious burnt smell comes wafting through, yeah, i'm cursing you, bitch. popcorn button my ass.
oh and don't start me on the 4.44 minutes to cook frozen spinach. there is no way in hell that it takes almost five minutes to do that, you lazy bastard. my mother's microwave can cook a turkey in ten minutes. almost five for spinach, come now.
take this as your warning: if you up and get all deathbed on me, i'm not going to repair, i'm getting a smaller one that will fit in my cabinet, not my bookshelf. the bookshelf thing isn't cute, dear. yes, it's a new york apartment and i'm glad i don't shower in the kitchen like one particular drag queen of note, but really, you're stinking up my books. and you're getting old. so get with it or pack your bags.
oh and yes, i know you readers picked up on this, but for years, i have been putting things in the microwave with patterned numbers: 2.10, 3.33, 1.23, etc. i learned it from my grandfather, the coolest cat, and, really, it makes as much sense as anything else. don't mock me, you have your idiosyncrasies, too, my dear... and i've already told you repeatedly that i'm not right in the head.
posted by tom at 9:34 PM
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