Tuesday, November 17, 2009

10% Rule and the Toaster from Hell

Some days I really should NOT even get out of bed, seriously.  When you lose a battle with a freakin' TOASTER, you know it's gonna be one of THOSE days.

I do not own a toaster.  I don't know that I have ever owned a toaster.  I didn't get a microwave until well into my 20s and that was a gift from my mother (and then it sat in the box for almost six month until my roommate decided she wanted to use it).  I am a bit old fashioned that way.  I make everything on the stove or in the oven; it's just the kinda girl I am.  Though I have recently  discovered the wonderful art of Crock Pottismery!  Fabulous...


The place I am staying at has a toaster, free for my own personal use.  How charming.  I decided I wanted a lovely toasted ham, egg, and cheese sandwich.  Seems easy enough.  Or so I thought.  I drag the toaster out from under the sink where it - I now understand - was actually lurking like a crazed New Orleans street rat for it's next victim.  Guess who that ended up being...

Okay, so got the little bastard out.  Now where is the damned cord???  What is this?  Some tree humping neo-hippie solar powered green Earth bullshit?  Do I have to find a hamster to haul ass on a little metal wheel to work this damn thing???  Already the annoyance is setting in.  High strung rabbits and cordless, non-functioning toasters are not a good mix.

Finally found the cord.  It was curled up and wedged into the equivalent of the toaster's butthole on the back/bottom of the contraption.  Yank it out of there and the damned side falls off.  Crumbs everywhere.  Who puts away a dirty toaster?  What type of shit is that????  Okay.  Cord?  Check.  Crumb barfing door closed?  Check.

Bread.  At this point I am about ready to just forego the whole damned sandwich and have a cocktail instead.  Shove the bread in the little toaster twat slots...  Push the little button hooer.   Nothing.  It just sits there.  Mocking me.  I literally scream out loud.  I am now determined to win.  This little son of a bitch is going to toast my bread if I have to set it on fire to do it.

I give it a good smack or 12.  Bang it on the counter.  Fling the bread onto the floor in the process.  Five second rule.  Try again.  Back in the twat slot goes the bread.  I force down the jackass level thingie and VOILA!  it's toasting.

I grab a plate and the luncheon meat and hear pah-chick-clunk-phlam...  Awww shit...  I turn around and the effin' thing has not only BURNED my damned toast in 2.3 seconds to a black and charred crisp, but it upchucked it right the hell outta there like a baby eating brocoli - and the damn crumbcatcher door thing has fallen open again!!!

One piece of charcoal landed in the trash.  The other flew up into the open freakin' cupboard and landed perfectly on a plate, leaving little black charcoal crumbs all over the place in its wake.

Needless to say, I busted out with my trusty cast iron skillet (and no I didn't pummel the evil toaster with it) and made some charming toasted bread on the stove top.

As for the toaster from hell, I duct taped that damned door thing back on; shoved it's stupid cord back up its little toaster butthole, and CHUNKED it back up under the sink where it can rot and die for all I care...

I may be having to replace a toaster though.