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OBSERVATIONS FROM MY MICROWAVE, WHILE IT SPIES ON ME
February 15, 2017:
Broti, once again, did not take the plastic off the Hot Pocket she tried to microwave. This would be a forgivable mistake (perhaps it was early in the morning and she was tending to other food, maybe on the stove), but it was 1:15 p.m., which means she had nowhere to report to and, therefore, all the time in the world to read the instructions on the Hot Pocket. Seriously, there are only, like, three instructions. One of them is to take the plastic off.
February 17, 2017:
It was late at night, and Broti thought that she could have it all (a mistake women often make, I am told). She thought that she could reheat leftovers while her Hulu ad played during the show she was watching, and she thought that she could go to the bathroom and make it back in time before I, her microwave, beeped my loudest. (I like to practice my scales only after midnight.) She did not make it, but instead frantically forgot to flush, quickly pulled out her food (like that would make a difference), and spilled it everywhere. The ads were over.
February 20, 2017:
It’s been only five days and we had another Hot Pocket fiasco. . . .
February 27, 2017:
Today was an odd one. I understand that popcorn is always fickle. There’s the elusive popcorn button, which popcorn packages often beg you not to use. So, today, she put the popcorn in, and even though it clearly said on the bag (I guess I should have known better than to think she’d read the bag), “do not use popcorn button” and “listen closely for two-second pauses between pops,” she still decided to take this time to listen very loudly to a song by the Spice Girls and specifically go against the instructions. Worst of all, when the butter splattered all over my inside, Broti acted surprised and yelled, “Oh shit!” Oh, shit, indeed, Broti. Oh, shit, indeed.
Broti, once again, did not take the plastic off the Hot Pocket she tried to microwave. This would be a forgivable mistake (perhaps it was early in the morning and she was tending to other food, maybe on the stove), but it was 1:15 p.m., which means she had nowhere to report to and, therefore, all the time in the world to read the instructions on the Hot Pocket. Seriously, there are only, like, three instructions. One of them is to take the plastic off.
February 17, 2017:
It was late at night, and Broti thought that she could have it all (a mistake women often make, I am told). She thought that she could reheat leftovers while her Hulu ad played during the show she was watching, and she thought that she could go to the bathroom and make it back in time before I, her microwave, beeped my loudest. (I like to practice my scales only after midnight.) She did not make it, but instead frantically forgot to flush, quickly pulled out her food (like that would make a difference), and spilled it everywhere. The ads were over.
February 20, 2017:
It’s been only five days and we had another Hot Pocket fiasco. . . .
February 27, 2017:
Today was an odd one. I understand that popcorn is always fickle. There’s the elusive popcorn button, which popcorn packages often beg you not to use. So, today, she put the popcorn in, and even though it clearly said on the bag (I guess I should have known better than to think she’d read the bag), “do not use popcorn button” and “listen closely for two-second pauses between pops,” she still decided to take this time to listen very loudly to a song by the Spice Girls and specifically go against the instructions. Worst of all, when the butter splattered all over my inside, Broti acted surprised and yelled, “Oh shit!” Oh, shit, indeed, Broti. Oh, shit, indeed.
http://www.newyorker.com/humor/daily-shouts/observations-from-my-microwave-while-it-spies-on-me?mbid=social_facebook
16 replies
= new reply since forum marked as read
= new reply since forum marked as read
weird loud noise while running the only other thing it does since the day after inauguration day is that Obama's voice started to come through and we have some wonderful conversations. He told me to say hello to you all. 
worst Bromance EVER.
The rest of us dont. 
