I don't know about you, but I am sick and tired of taking care of my waffle iron's feelings after it goes through a nasty breakup. As you can see in this illustration, recreating a scene from today's breakfast, I am consoling my waffle iron after the toaster oven left him for another appliance. That bread mixer is such a slut. But damn, if I don't feel that I am the one really getting hurt here. How in the hell am I supposed to start my day off right if I don't have my fucking waffles, fer cryin' out loud?
You know, if it isn't one thing it's another with this damn waffle iron. The other day it beeped me a Morse code explaining how it aspired to be an actor. Seriously, I just don't know what to do with him--assuming that it is indeed a male. So, getting tired of having an anthropomorphic kitchen appliance, I took this waffle iron into the bathroom to have a long stare into the mirror under the most unforgiving florescent lighting. I told it to repeat after me, "I am a goddam waffle iron, not a character off of the 'O.C.'" It just broke down completely and now I won't be having any waffles for a long time now. Shit, why are relationships so damn hard?
What goes on in your kitchens?
3 years ago