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Inanimate Objects that Need to Die
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4/10/2007
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Much Thanks to Phil Collins for supplying me with another entry:
My Fucking Frigidaire Stove
Dear Stove - I apologize for kicking you in the lower pan drawer last night, but the sound of boot meeting cheap sheet metal was soothing to my mounting frustration. I am the official Cooker of Edible Objects in this house. I try to work with you on a nightly basis. My two main complaints are thus:
- Would it be at all possible to adhere to your knob markings and have a temperature between that of human skin and the center of a volcano? When I engage your dial to MEDIUM for the purpose of, according to my recipe, "sweat[ing] the onions so that they reduce in mass, yet do not brown," I expect to return to the kitchen after 10 minutes and actually see some sort of kinetic energy expended to increase your hotness. Instead you squat there, faux-retro graphics and bird shit colored, attempting to decipher your purpose in life. Twisting your knob to HIGH, and seeing no immediate danger, only lulls me into a false sense of security until I hear the agonizing screams of delicately sliced onion turning a most definitely incorrect brown.
- I live in a house that was built in 1914. Apparently, carpenters did not have levels back in those days and my house slopes eastward, toward the rising sun. I often cook with fluid-like substances called "oils" that tend to pool toward the lowest areas of the pan. It would have been quite a convenience had you included adjustable legs in the rear portion of your body. Shimming your ass-end with one half of my son's plastic Easter egg, evidentially his "favorite toy of all!!", worked for 15 minutes as the preponderous weight of your uselessness drove it mercilessly into the tile floor.
If you could try to improve on these two very simple, yet sanity saving features, I will try to ignore that I am only able to fit pans made for Munchkins on your cooking area. Thanks a bunch.
My Slow Ass Computer at Work or "Dude, I'm getting a rank ass piece of shit Dell!"
It is 2006. My job has devolved into a never-ending battle to reduce the world's population of trees. I expect the conglomeration of circuits that sits beneath my cluttered desk to anticipate my next move. When I click on the button labeled "Open," I don't mean that rhetorically. I realize that the network connecting my office to The Mommy Computer is run by anemic gerbils ambling through a deteriorating Habitrail™; however, I am tired of leaving to get a drink of water as you muddle through your 1's and 0's. Please do try to keep up. I am well versed in the techniques for destroying a hard drive (a minimum of effort and a 5 1/2" drop onto a tile floor).
Microsoft Word Spellcheck
While I agree that the weight of responsibility for editing my written drivel lies upon my narrow shoulders, I believe your sole purpose is to assist in this endeavor.
Case in point: "I realize that the network connecting my office and an The Mommy Computer is run my anemic gerbils ambling through..."
Does that make sense to you? Because it fucking does not make sense to me, nor to the rest of the rest of the world who passed the 1st grade in public school. If I am typing faster than I think, and repeat words or place them out of order, please don't patronize me. Color the offending sections bold red and declare, "Hey asswipe! Did you really mean to write like a Lithium Study control subject who was placed in the sugar pill placebo group?!?"
Microsoft Word
For the last time, if I wanted to change my font from 10-point Ariel to 14-point Times Roman, I would have taken the time to do it myself. When I stated that I wanted my Slow Ass Computer at Work to anticipate my next move, I meant that I wanted the tasks performed correctly. And no, I don't want the "Header" portion of my Roman numeral outline to be 12 sizes smaller than the fourth sub-section. Fuck, stop improvising already!
My RCA Lyra MP3 Player (May It Rot In Hell)
I go to the gym, not to mold my 168-pound body into a hard body Adonis, but rather to slow the inexorable descent into middle age paunch and Increased Risk of Heart Disease. It is hard enough to maintain a level of exercise exuberance without my RCA Lyra MP3 player inexplicably and consistently shutting off during The Distiller's "City of Angels." And yes, it had a new battery. I tried the old trick of shifting the battery, sweat burning my eyes and on the verge of falling off the elliptical trainer. Same result. I lost my eternal sweet soul waiting on hold for an RCA representative to pick up the phone. My e-mail to RCA went unanswered. Epinions.com finally provided the hint that sometimes, when the battery is too new (?!?), the RCA Lyra will shut off. The suggestion offered by one of the forum's complaintees was to install a slightly used battery. Where the fuck am I suppose to use one AAA battery? My world is AA and larger. I finally explored the inner workings of the RCA Lyra with my Vaughan 28-ounce framing hammer. The next day I received an e-mail from RCA - "We suggest you contact our help desk at 1-800-Really Crappy Accessories."
My Parents' Lo-Flo Toilets
The Eljer Ultra 1-G™ was invented in 1984 by a bunny humping forest elf who existed solely on photosynthesis and distilled water, thus expelling waste the size of an atom. Eljer proudly proclaims that the Eljer Ultra 1-G™ toilet was introduced "10 years before government regulations." Unfortunately for Eljer, in 1993 the Government opted for Decrease Water Consumption over the Republican sponsored Increase The Number Of Flushes It Takes To Make A Single Ply Tissue Disappear From View. These toilets were not meant for toddlers with the digestive speed of a glacier. I long for the industrial-grade small cat sucking power of my old high school toilet.
 Phil "I don't play the fucking drums" Collins
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posted by Dusty at 4:53 PM |
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10 Comments:
Pretty funny stuff, dude.
Except for the rant of spell-checking. What was that all about?
Dusty, this guy is nearly as funny as you.
As for the Mp3 player - Buy an iPod. They always work. I had my first one for 5 years. It never failed me and even doubled as a makeup mirror (not that you need it as positive selling point, but it was handy).
I just purchased a new video iPod this year and love it too.
Britt
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