The Days of Whine
LC Van Savage
Through no fault of my own I have a very nice life,
but even knowing that, I still reserve the right to
whine occasionally, just to keep the balance, so thatís
what Iíll do now.
There are three things in my life that simply never work
for me. I hate them. Even as I approach them my heart
starts to hammer, my BP shoots up and I know the minute
I touch them, Iím doomed to failure. Yes I do believe in
the power of positive thinking; for others, not I. I can
think positively about these 3 things for 85 straight
hours, and they still wonít work.
The first is restaurant teapots. You know, those
little usually stainless steel ones containing hot water
for tea, although any sort have the same problem for me;
they do not work. They always, without fail, leak. I
pour them with the lids on, the lids off, holding the
lids down in a death grip with a napkin; no good. They
leak. Do you suppose theyíre made like that to drive
restaurant patrons nutsy? I mean are there sadistic,
laughing people somewhere in factories designing those
teapots to leak? I think yes. I know yes.
The second thing I hate? Toaster ovens. I own one
because I have friends and family members who think
toaster ovens are wondrous gifts from the appliance
gods. But theyíre not. I simply can never, ever make
them work. I push all the buttons, twirl all the dials,
even read the manual, but they wonít work. Bread slices
waiting within, if I finally get that light to come on,
I can count on the house smoke alarms to start blasting,
because for me, toaster ovens have 2 speeds; burn and
burn a lot. Furthermore, theyíre uncleanable. When ours
gets really gross, I vacuum the crumbs out, or shake the
thing over the sink, but eventually just throw it out
even if it still works (gleeful murder) which it never
did anyway. And when I spend time in someoneís home for
a few days as a guest and see a toaster oven on the
counter, I clench. Those little white appliances dare me
to try to cook my AM toast in them. They love to
humiliate me. They squat there, glaring with their evil,
square glass cyclops eyeball and I know they laugh. I
passionately hate toaster ovens, but do have a
conventional toaster in my home, for normal people.
Third? Corkscrews. Iím a non-drinker, but itís fallen
to me over the years to occasionally open a bottle of
wine, another chore I approach with fear. I just cannot
do it, but when I have to, I carry a small strainer to
the table to strain out the shoved-down cork pieces
while convincing my guests itís commonly known that cork
shards are important for good duodenum health.
I always watch with unabashed envy while waitpeople
screw corkscrews into bottle necks and ease those corks
out in toto as if theyíve been greased. Never happens
My brother, a wine aficionado (boring) once gave me a
cork remover. Itís two different lengths of thin blades
with a handle on top one forces down each side of the
cork, then twists, pulls, and voila! Out comes the cork.
No. I twist and pull and my arm and brotherís gift go
flying into a wall whilst the bottle crashes to the
floor from between my knees with the cork exactly where
the bottlers originally put it.
I really think the most successful way to open a
bottle of wine is the old cowboy method; bashing the
neck against something until itís broken off, then
grabbing the strainer and pouring the wine, this time
avoiding all talk about duodena, because shattered glass
probably isnít good for anything internal although I
donít know that for sure.
There you have it. Whining done.