You know how, when you microwave leftovers, little pockets of food-encased water will sometimes ‘pop?’ I’m pretty much assured that anything with a tomato base will errupt rather violently, spattering the top and sides of the oven with pinkish goo ANYtime I forget to cover a dish. I’ve had some soups explode so violently that the dish actually jumps in in the microwave. Once, I had one of those microwavable cup of soups (sadly, yes, it was tomato) actually filp over on me.
And – giving Murphy full credit for this one – it flipped on me right after I had cleaned the microwave. I hope the moment gave him a good giggle over his asinine laws.
Well, today my lunch hit a new low. It waited, like an evil basilisk patiently stalking its prey from the shadowy depths, until I’d taken the lid off and shoved a spoon up in there to erupt – spattering my hand with really, Really, REALLY hot cheesy potato stuff.
The evil protein & carbohydrate mix with which I intended to sustain myself for the afternoon at work bit me back. Actually, it bit me before I could bite it. It was a totally offensive move on the part of my lunch.
Soooo – to teach it a lesson – I ate it.
And – in totally unrelated news, views, and all things leaning more than slightly left – I have come up with a name for a new musical product. I shall craft some rhyming phrases of totally nonsensical words, set them to music, and sell the project under the name MYSM.
Because I can’t write music to save my soul, have no practical knowledge of playing any instrument outside of pounding out the Meow Mix jingle on a keyboard or banging on a drum to make a sound – the name stands for MY Shitty Music.
Think it’ll be a thing?