Last week when I did my grocery shopping, Vons had Chef-Boyardee on sale for a dollar a can. Not a bad deal, and I like the ravioli--it's something I'd probably never make myself. So I picked up six assorted cans to restock the cupboard--ravioli, spaghetti & meatballs, and even mini-ravioli.
Well, on Tuesday night, I was getting hungry. I'd eaten some chips and salsa with my beer when I first got home from work the night before, but for the entire rest of the day I'd consumed nothing but a pot of coffee. So around 8:00 pm I was feeling a bit famished. I was spending the evening chatting on the T2V site with Sticky, Dougie, Doc and the rest of the degenerates, and I kept complaining that I was hungry. They were getting tired of hearing it and to a person recommended that I just shut the hell up already and go get some food. The problem was that I had no 'instant' food handy besides chips and salsa, and I didn't want that again. I either had to fix something or go grab some fast food somewhere. But my inherent laziness was feuding with itself--I was too lazy to go drive somewhere to pick up a burger or a burrito or something, plus it was cold outside, and I was absolutely feeling too lazy to go bang pots around in the kitchen.
Then I remembered that I had the Chef-Boyardee in the cabinet and a fully-functional microwave on the counter. Hell, a kitchen gadget-savvy guy like me even has some tomato-stain resistant Rubbermaid on hand too, just in case of situations like that.
Spaghetti and Meatballs it was, and it would only take about three minutes, not my usual all-day affair when I'm making a pot of spaghetti sauce from scratch.
Any bachelors or college students who may be reading this are fully aware of the pop-top nature of Chef-Boyardee cans. Lift the ring, pull the lid off, empty into a bowl, microwave, stir, enjoy. Easy. Unfortunately, as soon as I lifted the ring, it came off in my hand, no lid attached, no access to the pasta goodness locked within.
Damn. That just wouldn't do.
How to get the goodies out of the can and into the bowl? A can opener was enlisted for the task, but the rim was too deep, rendering my can opener useless. I turned the can over, thinking I'd use the Vito & Johnny Cakes method and go in through the back side. No such luck, as the can had a rounded bottom, no rim like a proper tin can, making my can opener's journey to obsolescence almost complete.
Hmmm... Well, if can opener wasn't going to work, I figured I could force my way in with the back-end of a spoon, kind of like opening a tube of biscuits.
So I set the can back right-side up on the counter, took out the heaviest tablespoon I could find, and pressed the end of it on the seam of the can where the lid meets the edge. And I pressed until my fingers turned purple and the lid was dented. No luck.
At this point, I was tempted to just chuck the whole thing in the garbage in frustration. After all, it only cost me a buck. But I wasn't going to be defeated by a 99-cent can of processed pasta and sauce.
After thinking about it for a minute, I decided to take the Glenn-Close-in-Fatal-Attraction route and got out the biggest damn butcher knife I could find. Not only would I finally break the seal and get to the tasty pseudo-Italian treat that I now *had* to have, but I'd teach that can a lesson that it wouldn't soon forget!
One Kung-Fu yell and an over-the-head stab into the defective lid was all it took. Unfortunately, I attacked with just a little too much gusto and the can, and it's contents, literally exploded all over the kitchen and all over me. There was sauce on the ceiling, counter, floor, fridge, stovetop, and all over my face, head, and shirt.
So the kitchen was covered in thick red goo, I'm standing there holding a butcher's knife and looking like Mel Gibson at the end of The Patriot, and that's about the time my roommate decided he needed to come and fix a pot of coffee.
He caught one glimpse of me, put his hands up, took a step back, and said Dude... It was BOB that set that cup of paint thinner on your truck--not me!!!
Once he realized I wasn't dismembering anyone or anything, we had a good laugh. And I spent the next half hour with a bottle of 409 and a roll of paper towels, cleaning up the mess.
It would've been a lot less hassle to just order a pizza. Next time I'm calling Metro.
Mikey
No comments:
Post a Comment