I cried because I had no vegetables to eat with my Hidden Valley Ranch Dip...then I remembered that I'm married to a man who ATE THE WHOLE FREAKIN' BAG OF VEGETABLES! And I cried harder, then I got mad, and later on I might get even.
So much for composing a memorable quote tonight. I'm afraid the meaning will be lost in translation. No worldwide fame for me. My words won't show up on a poster suitable for hanging in a college dorm. Looks like I'll have to achieve fame by taking another route.
Here's my latest most scathingly brilliant idea. The world needs a new type of eating utensil. I say this because I am doggone sick and tired of washing eating utensils. Perhaps I've mentioned that I don't have a dishwasher. It is quite tiresome to haul tons of silverware down to the creek every evening. Oh, who are we kidding here? I don't wash the dishes every evening. Besides, sometimes the creek is in flood stage, and not suitable for soaking eating implements. For those of you who thought the "tons" part was the exaggeration, you need to seek a refund on you thinking cap.
My little family needs to have ONE utensil issued, checked out like a library book, to be eaten with all the live-long day, for two weeks. They think the silverware drawer is some kind of magical clown car for metal food-shovelers. I declare, ten thousand monkeys slurping ten thousand bowls of lobster bisque apiece in ten thousand competitive eating contests could not dirty any more silverware that the three men who live in my house. I almost gave myself a hernia lifting it from the counter into the sink. While I was recuperating on the toilet, because it's the best place to catch some peace and quiet around here while slacking off, the invention came to mind.
Each baby should be born with a silver Swiss Army Knife in his mouth. Okay, before you go saying, "Hold on there, Val, that's some CRAZY talk, giving babies Swiss Army Knives," let me assure you that I agree. That's not safe. And not economically feasible. It's wasteful. Everybody knows that babies don't need the corkscrew. They don't yet have the eye-hand coordination to open their own bottle of wine. That's adult work.
What babies should be born with in their mouths are KNOONKS. That's a combiation knife, spoon, and fork. In this ever-changing, fast-paced world, who has time for only sporks anymore? Not this gal. Besides, the KNOONK is a palindrome. Which makes it cooler that a spork. A spork sounds like that dweeby kid in seventh grade who asked you to the basketball game to watch him be the team manager.
Yes, KNOONK-equipped family members will provide me with less time standing at the sink, and more time sitting on my ample behind purloining select tidbits from The Pony's Easter basket. I plan to market them out of my proposed handbasket factory.
Reserve a set today, and you won't have to worry about tomorrow.
Putting in a request for tickets for a tour of Val's Handbaskets-Etcetera factory in the near future. Should be a hot item. KNOONKS are already on the top of some insider trading lists.
ReplyDeleteBecause I hold you in such high regard, I'll consider reserving a set today.
ReplyDeleteI would buy one, do they come in a lefthanded version?
ReplyDeleteYou might have something there, Val. I say if they can't wash their own spoons let 'em suffer the consequences.
ReplyDeleteYes! And can we agree that if they haul their KNOONK into their lair to become fossilized in the bowl of blue milk with the week-old not-so-Lucky Charm floaters, we can refuse to issue a new one?
ReplyDeleteLeenie,
ReplyDeleteThat's a scathingly brilliant idea! Tours of the proposed handbasket factory! A miniature train with cars shaped like the handbaskets themselves. Perhaps I'll hire you as a freelancer to paint designs on my ride. Can't put you on full time, though, because you would suck up my profits with your benefits.
*******
Stephen,
Don't hold me too high on that pedestal of regard. I am not fond of heights. You'd never catch ME on top of a camel. What's that--a zephyr stirring the hair on the back of my neck? Nope. Just the collective sigh of relief from camels worldwide.
*******
joeh,
Indeed, KNOONKs come in lefthanded versions. Genius is a southpaw, you know. And he definitely needs a KNOONK. You might say he was my inspiration.
*******
Linda,
And by "consequences," I suppose you mean laryngitis from their unheeded cries of, "SOMEBODY really needs to wash the silverware!"
*******
Tammy,
Motion sustained. In addition, a fine will be assessed for each day the KNOONK is overdue. Twenty years later, they might meet Mr. Heyman and his baked bean teeth sitting on the steps by the kitchen door as they come to pay the fine for the lost KNOONK.