Goodnight

Posted on Tuesday, April 25, 2006

I seem to have been building this kitchen for about eighteen years now, and I don’t know when I’ll be finished. I’m hoping to have most of it complete within a month or two, maybe, and in that hopeful spirit, I made a small leap of faith today, purchasing a can-opener. It’s a cheap plastic item with one purpose only: feeding the fucking dog.

The Bullet helpfully pointed out that this opener comes complete with a set of care instructions, which read as folows:

Wash thoroughly before use.

Oh dear Jesus, Nooooooooooo! Look. I got a small bit of dust in the crap we’re feeding the dog. What the fuck will we do? I know! We’ll go back to the old ways and just fling his food out the back door. Eat that, ya fucker, and be happy about it. Imagine if somebody served you breakfast that way. Here! Splat on the ground. Have a pile of shit the rest of us didn’t want, and you can lick it off the concrete too as a special treat.

To keep your can opener looking its best, clean and dry it as soon as possible after use.

You can just see me, can’t you, in Brown Thomas or someplace like that. Excuse me? Yeah, I was looking for a tube of can-opener cleaner. That’s right. I like to keep my can opener looking its best. There I am, sitting down watching the new Sopranos, while absent-mindedly but lovingly buffing my opener. Look at that! Beautiful! Did you ever see such a dry can-opener? I might even start a small business, selling the bits and pieces you’d need. I could have one of those twee little shops they love in West Cork, and I could call it For Openers. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Dishwasher safe. Remove and dry immediately.

Fucking right! We don’t want a repeat of the last time, do we? Nobody wants that. Christ no.

Why don’t they print a warning on it, while they’re on a roll. This is not a hairdryer! Do not attempt to dry your hair with this can-opener!

The good news is that I found my iPod, which I thought I’d lost due to drunkenness in some Russian bar when I went out on the piss in Dublin with the Rockhopper. When was that? Was it the Scotland match? It might have been - I don’t know. All I know is I couldn’t find my player, which pissed me off greatly. It’s amazing how dependent on these things you become. I use mine for flinging at the dog (since I stopped spraying bleach into his eyes) and pounding on the front doors of strangers’ houses.

I’m going to bed. Goodnight Wrinkly Paddy. Goodnight Wrinkly Joe. Goodnight Impaler. Good night Hyperzenchef. Goodnight QJS. Goodnight Anonymous. Goodnight Halliburton.

Stumble it!