Hello. You there.
Did you miss me?
I've been a bit busy this past week buying food, then making it the same day.
Seriously, I'm not trying to be French.
I'm trying to avoid death via a lethal consumption of salmonella and E Coli, courtesy of our homemade fridge.
It's called a cooler.
That's right, a cooler.
The thing you keep beer in, except we're now keeping milk in it and cooling it with frozen beer bottles. We're also spending valuable video game time rescuing the cheese and tortillas from what must seem to them to be the bottom of the Titanic.
Monterey Jack, come back!
It's been two weeks since we lost our fridge. The only thing that saved us was one of those apartment sized freezers that used to store frozen cherries. It's now our lifeline.
It's also been about two weeks since that piece of shit neighbor Kenny seized our lawnmower and more than three months since our vacuum cleaner lost its battle with Finnigan's hair.
I was so depressed last week, I put my head in the stove.
Unfortunately, electric stoves only sizzle your nose hairs.
I suck at suicide.
I'm kidding, but I was pretty fucking depressed.
Everybody has a fridge but us.
Except for homeless people and they don't need fridges, only guitars and some warm mitts. Everybody with a lawn has a mower except us and Kenny. Seriously? I wanted to drown the little rat in the toilet, which fortunately still works.
Unlike Kenny.
And everybody with a rug has a vacuum cleaner.
Not us.
We are living in the trifecta of shit.
Our existence depends on a cooler, a pair of scissors and a hand vac that is attached to my wrists.
But the news is not all bad.
In our strange little life, it truly is always darkest before the dawn.
Last week, we received a contract to shoot a video about not shooting people.
As a result, we were able to buy a new fridge, lawnmower and Shopvac for half the price of my old fridge.
Now they aren't fou-fou items from a fancy store with a French name.
We didn't buy them on approved credit.
Nope, we handed the bored clerk at the Home Depot a hefty, smelly wad of cash.
The guy who couldn't work the computer.
I think his name was John.
The fridge was the cheapest one we could find with a bottom drawer. Unfortunately, it's a bottom draw that opens like the microwave so Sophie the pug will no doubt figure out how to get into it using her Freddy Kruger falanges.
Or the Baby Skylar will use it to store one of the dogs.
I don't care. Hopefully, it wasn't made on a Monday.
And it's not a Goddamned Whirlpool or one of its bastard brands.
It's made by Cable Town. (GE for those who don't watch 30 Rock reruns.)
In any event, I'm not complaining.
We'll be back in business by Monday and my produce won't look the rotting stuff on Farmville that my damned friends forgot to water.
Happy, happy, joy, joy!
Did you miss me?
I've been a bit busy this past week buying food, then making it the same day.
Seriously, I'm not trying to be French.
I'm trying to avoid death via a lethal consumption of salmonella and E Coli, courtesy of our homemade fridge.
It's called a cooler.
That's right, a cooler.
The thing you keep beer in, except we're now keeping milk in it and cooling it with frozen beer bottles. We're also spending valuable video game time rescuing the cheese and tortillas from what must seem to them to be the bottom of the Titanic.
Monterey Jack, come back!
It's been two weeks since we lost our fridge. The only thing that saved us was one of those apartment sized freezers that used to store frozen cherries. It's now our lifeline.
It's also been about two weeks since that piece of shit neighbor Kenny seized our lawnmower and more than three months since our vacuum cleaner lost its battle with Finnigan's hair.
I was so depressed last week, I put my head in the stove.
Unfortunately, electric stoves only sizzle your nose hairs.
I suck at suicide.
I'm kidding, but I was pretty fucking depressed.
Everybody has a fridge but us.
Except for homeless people and they don't need fridges, only guitars and some warm mitts. Everybody with a lawn has a mower except us and Kenny. Seriously? I wanted to drown the little rat in the toilet, which fortunately still works.
Unlike Kenny.
And everybody with a rug has a vacuum cleaner.
Not us.
We are living in the trifecta of shit.
Our existence depends on a cooler, a pair of scissors and a hand vac that is attached to my wrists.
But the news is not all bad.
In our strange little life, it truly is always darkest before the dawn.
Last week, we received a contract to shoot a video about not shooting people.
As a result, we were able to buy a new fridge, lawnmower and Shopvac for half the price of my old fridge.
Now they aren't fou-fou items from a fancy store with a French name.
We didn't buy them on approved credit.
Nope, we handed the bored clerk at the Home Depot a hefty, smelly wad of cash.
The guy who couldn't work the computer.
I think his name was John.
The fridge was the cheapest one we could find with a bottom drawer. Unfortunately, it's a bottom draw that opens like the microwave so Sophie the pug will no doubt figure out how to get into it using her Freddy Kruger falanges.
Or the Baby Skylar will use it to store one of the dogs.
I don't care. Hopefully, it wasn't made on a Monday.
And it's not a Goddamned Whirlpool or one of its bastard brands.
It's made by Cable Town. (GE for those who don't watch 30 Rock reruns.)
In any event, I'm not complaining.
We'll be back in business by Monday and my produce won't look the rotting stuff on Farmville that my damned friends forgot to water.
Happy, happy, joy, joy!
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