The Junk Drawer

I was incredulous.

There I was, shopping for one of my favorite kid meals. The kind of meal you still eat as an adult, but that you’d never admit to in mixed company.

Like maybe Trix cereal with chocolate milk. And a bowl of sugar on the side.

What do I jones for from my kiddom?

Steak-umms. That’s right. Steak with umm in the name. You umm when you eat ‘em.

For those unfamiliar with this delicacy, Steak-umms are thin frozen sheets of unidentifiable meat. Meat from some part of the cow, you just don’t know which one. Probably a lot of parts. Let’s just call it “Other.”

Other tastes delicious on a crispy hoagie roll, with lots of gooey cheese. And grease. And maybe peppers if you like them.

They’re so freaking good, chopped up and fried in a pan.

Now. I know we ain’t talkin’ high end steak here. I know that meat you have to peel away from paper isn’t top shelf. Not even close.

I also know that a 16-slice box should not cost a whopping $12.49.

They’re SHEETS OF OTHER MEAT!

I quickly shifted over to old people mode and started complaining aloud to no one in particular about the price of meat these days.

Since I’d already carted up all the other things needed to make my sandwiches, the Steak-umms forced my hand and I had to buy them.

But not before I asked a cashier to please check the price at the register and make sure it was really twelve forty I-don’t-wanna-pay-that.

It was.

Check again, please.

Still $12.49.

OK, so I broke my piggy bank and paid for them.

As soon as I got home, I emailed the Steak-umm people.

Hi. I just paid an outrageous price of $12.49 for a 16-slice box of Steak-umms. I had the cashier double check the price and he said it was correct. If this is what you’re charging for steak that’s not filet mignon, I have no plans to buy it again. The only reason I did was because I’d already carted all the other items I was going to make the sandwiches with.

Can you tell me if that price is really correct? I just can’t believe that it is. Thank you.

I got a quick response from someone who told me they can’t control the retail price and that “surely” I “understand that economic factors have impacted all of our grocery budgets in recent months.”

They said “surely,” which really means “You ignorant woman who must live under a rock to not realize that everything got real expensive in the last year or so and get off your high horse and just buy the damn meat if you want it so bad.”

They went on to say they don’t give out coupons and that I should look for in-store sales instead.

Something tells me they just don’t give coupons to cranky people with ‘tude.

For those of you familiar with Steak-umms, how do you make yours? Do you use Cheez Whiz? Sauce? Peppers? Onion? Toasted roll? Non-toasted?

Zach: Dude, where u at?

Dylan: My crib

Zach: Yo. UR house?

Dylan: Yea but no. I mean my actual crib.

Zach: U ain’t up yet?

Dylan: Ruf nite. No sleep.

Zach: Sup?

Dylan: Batteries dying on my teddy. Makes a racket til you change ‘em.

Zach: Dude?

Dylan: You know, the batteries go and the guy beeps and talks gibberish. Doesn’t yours?

Zach: I don’t even have a talking bear. U suck. So listen. U heading to park later?

Dylan: Can’t. Nana’s today.

Zach: Which one?

Dylan: The awesome one who knits me the bitchin’ booties.

Zach: Yea, remember ur Converse ones. Dude. Awesome.

Dylan: Heh, yea those help with the ladies. Picked up a cutie at mommy n me class once.

Zach: I remember her. Chrissy, right. She’s hot. Cept her diaper wasn’t doing her any favors.

Dylan: Like yours are? U always look like your carrying a load. Why do u wear them so low?

Zach: Man its the look.

Dylan: See it isn’t. U look like a fool with a saggy crotch. Makes U crawl stupid.

Zach: I crawl awesome. I won a race once.

Dylan: Oh man. Mom’s on the move. Gotta run. Trying to feed me solids now. I kinda miss milk. Do you?

Zach: U kidding? UR such a baby. I’m chewin’ now. Nom nom carrots!

Dylan: Catch you later. Text you after my second nap. Prob 4 or so, K?

Zach: K. Headin to park. I’ll let you know if Chrissy’s there. Heh.

Dylan: Don’t even

Zach: I think she’ll like my saggy diaper. Might even share my paci with her.

Dylan: Gross. Seriously dude. Hands off.

Zach: Tell ur mom I said yo.

Dylan: Yo to the mom.

Zach: Later dude.

Dylan: Later.

Bethlehem, PA – A local man today avoided certain death by not over-exerting himself changing out a roll of paper towels.

The man, David Frederick, when asked by his wife whether it would actually kill him to swap them out, responded “Yes. Yes, it would kill me.”

Though he got close to changing it – the roll made it within inches of the holder – he insisted it would have been much too difficult to lift the old roll and put on a new one.

Frederick’s unwillingness to change the roll makes no scientific sense, given new research from American University that suggests men in households with easy-to-change paper towel holders are 34% more likely to change the roll than households with the wall-mounted type, requiring two hands to change it.

“I just didn’t feel like it,” Frederick said.

Lead researcher, Robert Jones, says that Frederick’s difficulty in changing the roll may stem from his general laziness or the fact that he worked that day and felt he had no energy left, despite the fact that his household sports the one-handed type of holder.

Although Frederick’s wife was pleased her husband didn’t have to die by changing the roll out, she expressed frustration that she would have to do it herself – again.

“I mean, he went to the trouble to get a new one and put it down next to the holder. The empty roll weighs, what, two ounces? I just don’t understand it,” she said.

Reports indicate that Frederick’s wife did eventually change the roll, sighed heavily and then stomped away from the kitchen.

Frederick and his wife have been married nearly 20 years. There was no indication whether Frederick’s near death experience will keep him from changing new rolls in the future, but researcher Jones suspects so.

“Once a habit of neglect has been formed, it’s very hard to change, particularly for husbands. They have a hard time with toilet paper rolls, too,” he said. “It’s just asking too much.”

So yeah. I was chatting online with a friend who gives me inspiration to workout every day.

I told her that with new leg and butt exercises, I’m really seeing and feeling results there and was thrilled about it.

So much that I’m convinced “my ice cream brings all the boys to the yard.”

Except that that’s not the correct lyric.

It’s not ice cream. It’s milkshake.

My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.

And then all the boys stand around laughing at me because I’m old and shouldn’t be trying to quote the lyrics of songs meant for hot, young things.

The end.

Me: You know what I could go for?

Husband: What?

Me: A Pepsi.

Husband: Are you pregnant?

This exchange is hardly odd because I haven’t had a real soda in about ten years and so Dave thought something was up. I’m strictly a water and coffee drinker.

The last time I drank a Pepsi was the first day of a vacation. It was a special event that I was going to drink a soda. And so after that, any time we had real soda for Dave in the house, it became known to me as Vacation Soda.

I tried to drink a carbonated Orange Crush at a picnic once and I remembered why I don’t bother with liquids of the bubbly variety. My eyes and nose watered and then I experienced that ever-painful thing where I blow up and can’t burp. Fun.

I don’t drink alcohol either. Not because I have anything against imbibing. It just turns me narcoleptic, which makes me no fun at all for the people who are enjoying a drink. I can’t even be the designated driver because I’m two sheets to the sleep after even a half glass of wine.

So if you’re considering taking me out to dinner or a night out with the girls, you pretty much have to order me a water on the rocks or things could get real ugly. And by ugly, I mean I’ll either explode at the table or fall asleep in your lap.

Dave’s running out now to get me that Pepsi. Mark the date. June 4, 2011. Kathy drank a soda this decade.