irst, let there be a brief story:
     Upon moving into my own apartment, I discovered that I was suddenly lacking in a multitude of necessary items, one of which being a microwave. I remedied this lack by purchasing the floor model of a very cheap microwave at the local Wal-Mart. Predictably, it did not work. Since it was a floor model, I couldn’t return or exchange it. Drat, says I, and pitched the defunct nuke into the trash, somewhat annoyed to be out the thirty bucks. That’s what I get for being too frugal.
     I went back to the Wal-Mart and bought a new microwave, not a floor model, and not quite as cheap, and took it home, roughly about three weeks ago. The first meal I made in it was a Lean Cuisine panini. Mmmm, yummy. Since I work in a restaurant, I don’t eat much at home, so over the course of the next three weeks, I used the new microwave maybe twice more. The second and third times, I vaguely noticed that the microwave didn’t seem to be getting things warm as fast as it should, and resolved to fiddle with the power settings at some point.
     Two days ago, I was lamenting the difficulties of cooking for only one person with my staff. This is actually a bit of a task for me, as I have been cooking for crowds pretty much since the day I stepped out of my parents’ door and headed out into the world. So, to go from cooking for many large appetites, to cooking for just little old me, who doesn’t eat much at all, has been a bit of a culture shock. Also, it’s a lot of effort to go to for a little bit of nothing. I mean, work all day, and then come home and bust out gourmet cooking for one, and then clean up after it . . . lot of work just to feed my usually bitty appetite. The staff threw out several frozen food suggestions, one of which being — drum roll, please — the Hot Pocket. Ooo, I thought. I love Hot Pockets! Haven’t had one in forever! I’m getting Hot Pockets on the way home! And thus I did.
     You see where this is going, don’t you?
     Fast-forward to me standing, wrought with confusion, much like any primate when confronted with a complex tool, in front of my brand new microwave. I was pushing buttons in the vague hope that the magic microwave fairy would appear and cause my Hot Pockets to become warm and delicious, instead of frozen lumps, which they still were, after twelve minutes in the frickin’ microwave. My microwave had, in fact, taken a shit on me.
     This matter was further complicated by the fact that I didn’t have any tinfoil or baking pans, or other suitable substitutes, so I could put my Hot Pockets in the oven. (At this point, my mother is laughing at me, because she told me when we were out shopping for stuff to set my apartment up with to buy baking pans, and I didn’t.) I related this story to my staff the next day, to much laughter, and the suggestion that I should have just put the damn things right on the rack in the oven. I pointed out that there is no appreciable difference between Hot Pockets and shaped charges, and that I didn’t feel like cleaning my whole damn oven at one in the morning just for one measly Hot Pocket.
     I did, however, buy tinfoil on my way home last night, and today, finally, I got my Hot Pockets. Fresh, hot, crispy, yummy Hot Pockets, which are better from the oven anyways, so neener neener. I also called Wal-Mart, who assured me that they’d take my shitty broken microwave away and give me a nice shiny happy microwave which works, which I will be off to do shortly.
     In the meantime . . . mmmm, Hot Pockets. And linkage to neat things:

• Paper thin LCDs
• PartiallyClips: Paradox Dragon
• The Science of Flirting (I always thought of it more as an art.)
• Epic Fail
• A Brief History of Puppet States

     (Photo credit: HotPockets.com.)

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