plots revenge against her inept fridge designer.
Like most feminists, I hate men. Actually, even though writing that sentence gave me the most immense pleasure, it’s not, strictly speaking, g, true. I don’tdon t hate all men. I hate one. ne. I hate a man.
To be honest, I don’t actually know for sure that he is a man. I mean, I’m pretty tty certain he is. And I’m so blinded ed by hatred, I don’t have time me to get bogged down in n the details. I just hate him, m, you know. As in loathe. athe. Despise.
Theree are many reasons for this. I mean, he’s a massive idiot. But ut heaps of people are, and I don’t hate them. em. And his limited competence wouldn’t t matter so much if he a) hadn’t been given a position n of authority in a large company, ompany, or b) hadn’t messed with me. In my own wn house.
Yep. Village idiot has infiltrated ed the sanctity of my home me and caused me nothing g but grief. And he’s done ne it through my kitchen. hen. My fridge, to be precise. ecise.
See, about 10 years ago, whenen we first moved intonto our house and were about to buy our first grownup, ice-making fridge, it turned out the cavity designed for it was too narrow blah, blah, blah. (Sorry, lost interest in my own renovatin renovating story.) Basically there were only t two models that would fit – and the they were both madly expensive. We went with the one the salesm salesman recommended. It’s an Americ American company, he said. Their frid fridges last for years. And we assu assured him it would have to, bec because it cost the same as a se second-hand car. Of course, the icedisp dispenser broke after abou about six months. That was disappointing, but the fridge was plumbed in and still made ice, so we’d jus just scoop it out with our han hands when we wanted it. B But that wasn’t the proble problem. No. The problem was i inside the fridge. Speci Specifically with the buffo buffoon who designed its in interior. See, when you open the door, the top few s shelves inside it are cove covered by another clear plast plastic door – presumably to st stop things flying out as yo you open it. And yet, kno knowing this basic law of ph physics, they made the shel shelves inside shallow,
with no lip, so that any time you wrench the plastic-door-within-the-door to access THE STUFF YOU WANT TO USE, it falls out and shatters on the floor.
This is, at minimum, a weekly occurrence. Missiles include: jars of horseradish cream, mustard, jalapeños, capers, pizza sauce, curry paste and pesto. As well as shattering and spraying their contents all over the floor, they often hit us on the foot. I have rejigged the fridge, hoping heftier items will stay put, but
this just means I’ve also been splattered with yoghurt, cream, cottage cheese, chicken curry, bolognese, spanakopita filling and soup. More than once, I’ve had a kilo-block of Coon land on my foot.
So. I hate that guy. I’ve actually dreamt of hunting him down at the Maytag factory and inviting him over for dinner so he can see his “one job” in action.then, when he arrives, I will pelt him with food and bash his foot with cans of food, like that demented chick out of Misery.
After all, they say to keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.
“I will pelt him with food like that demented chick out of Misery”