So, tonight, it was that I survived my microwave and an English muffin.
It started out like any other night. G and I decided to cook dinner, which, as in most unions, means that I cook while G watches (just kidding, sometimes G cooks, but I really enjoy it and thought I was ok at it). I decided to cook breakfast for dinner. I cooked some scrambled eggs - check. I cooked some turkey bacon - also check. So far, so good.
I pulled the English muffins out of the fridge. I'm not gonna lie, I have a MA and I still was under the impression that the "sell by" date in no way coincides with the "eat by" date. Please. I had them in the FRIDGE for christ's sake. Well, my standard solution for anything remotely unedible is to put it in the microwave. I put those babies in the microwave, and I continued monitoring the bacon, which I honestly thought was going to be the most difficult part of the whole ordeal. When I checked on the muffins, one of them was soft, so I put it on my plate. The other one was still rock hard (that's what she said), so I left it in there. That's right, two minutes for an English muffin. I told G I only put it in for a minute, but it was the smoke inhalation talking. I think it was really closer to two.
About 30 seconds later, I noticed smoke seeping out of the microwave door. Sensing danger, I opened up the microwave and was greeted by a cloud of smoke. Terrified that I might set off the smoke alarm, I did the most logical thing I could do - I got the hair dryer out of the bathroom (coming frighteningly close to knocking the hair straightener while still plugged in into the toilet, just like how they tell you NOT to do on those annoying tags that come with appliances).
Times I have avoided death so far: 1
I was cursing like a sailor at this point, so G came out of her room. "Jesus Christ, what is going on?" she yelled above the hair dryer. "Why are you blow drying the microwave?"
I explained the situation in random pieces of text, including "microwave" "English muffin" "burnt" "and "shit!"
Times I have avoided death so far (including the hair straightener electrocution debacle): 2
I held the hair dryer pointed at the smoke alarm and the smoke, plus I opened our apartment door, and we released the rest of the smoke from the microwave, when G explained we kind of had to. I thought it could stay in there forever, like when you start to open a soda and notice it's going to blow up so you kind of open it, and then let it sit and air out.
Here are pictures of the carnage. Eventually I gave up on blow-drying. G asked me what had possessed me to put the English muffin in the microwave, when we had a perfectly good toaster right there. I admitted that the microwave was my go-to, plus, those fucking muffins were frozen solid, so how were they supposed to fit in that tiny opening in the damn toaster? It's called logic.
As smoke still cleared out, G read the English muffin package. "Dude, it says 'sell by December 9' on here," she noted.
"But there's no 'eat by' date," I explained.
G shook her head. "No dude. They don't publish 'eat by' dates. They don't expect people to blow up their apartments. Just you do that."
"I'm going to write a letter to Thomas Bakery letting them know that their muffins are NOT flame retardant," I complained.
"Only YOU are flame retarded," quipped G.
"I said flame RETARDANT."
"Sure you did."
The eggs, I should note, were really great. G showed me how to use that toaster. When I tried to eat the remnants of the one edible muffin, it was so tough to rip apart that I knocked over an entire glass of juice, which would've been way less funny had I not previously just endured everything involving the microwave. The muffins were my nemeses. English muffins are not allowed in our apartment anymore, nor am I allowed to cook anything in the microwave until my probation is over, and G told me that probation will end when she decides it ends.
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