Tuesday, March 23, 2004
First and foremost, an example of what is not comedy. To anyone else at LuthorCorp who thinks it would be funny to play a little joke like this on me...it’s not. Trust me. Anyone who was at work today and was within earshot of me, think of the tone of my voice and tell me if I was amused. Or as Paul Westerberg said, look me in the eye, then tell me that I’m satisfied. In short, just don’t do it.
What is comedy? My refrigerator, for starters. My refrigerator is a colossal freaking laugh. It’s one of those nasty little urban fridges for a nasty little urban kitchen. To be fair, it is a vast improvement over the first fridge the landlord gave us, which used to frost up about six minutes after we’d finished defrosting it, and which nearly broke my foot when the door fell off its hinges. When the nicest thing you can say about your fridge is “the door never falls off!,” then you know you have sunk to Bukowski-like depths, fridge-wise. The fridge, it fills me with shame. I couldn’t step back far enough to take the whole fridge in one shot, so I had to opt for pressing my bottom against the edge of the kitchen table and taking in as much of a shot as I could. Well, geez, Jen, if you’re so embarrassed, why post these at all? Because I am hopeless in the face of peer pressure, that’s why.
Without further ado, let us check out the freezer. Note the three loaves of bread, the quart of stock with the popped-off lid, and the pound of salted butter that Lloyd bought by mistake, and which I will never use, yet somehow refuse to throw away.
Next comes the freezer door, full of lime leaves, pignoli, pumpernickel flour and proper butter.
From here we move to the fridge, home of two and a half-dozen eggs and a big-ass capon.
Jen, do you really use all that stuff on the door? Damn right we do.
And last but not least, my favorite fridge accoutrement: a photograph taken by my friend and former colleague Jim Lee, who toiled with me at the newspaper in my little whitebread redneck mountain town in the Poconos. The lovely young woman in the photo is Miss Scranton/Wilkes-Barre; the scene is the 1988 Greene-Dreher-Sterling Fair. That is ice cream she is eating, by the way. I will refrain from making an easy and obvious joke, but you may certainly feel free to do so. It *is* Comedy Night here at PTMYB, after all.
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Bakerina at 11:54 PM in
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ACK! There’s mayo on the shelf. Is it stealth mayo? Did you know that it was there? Of course, mayo comes from eggs. Maybe it’s all part of the research!
Will retreat now to my non-Mayo refrigerator that is void of eggs, as well, since I just don’t like eggs.
I should take pictures and play along.
No wonder the door fell off! You need industrial strength hinges for all that! 
bakerina bio:
* strong interest in eggs
* obvious lefty—cafe nica in freezer
* childless (no gallons of milk)
* urban—lack of quality tupperware
* food snob—ketchup on very bottom shelf
* possible drug lord—suspicious foil packages
* female—uses mason jars
* living with man—relish, lowbrow mustard
* restaurant goer—lack of microwaveability
1) orionoir is a riot! (But we knew that.)
2) Are you sure we’re not married? That fridge is exactly the same as the one my wife created before I bought her the fancy giant side-by-side which she promptly refilled with exactly the same physics-defying skill.
3) That fridge is not an embarrasment, it’s a work of art.
4) You might want to consider reinforcing the floor under your fridge if you ever own your own home or care about what’s on the level below.
A fridge to warm a ‘mouse’s heart.
I have a ‘random’ fridge door handle at the moment.
One time it will stay secure and will allow you to use it to open the door, another time it will pop off in your hand and leave you scrabbling round the edges of the door trying to get purchase to find some milk for the cereal.
nb yes, I know I should fix it…
Miss Scranton Wilkes Barre certainly is modestly dressed.
I’ve noticed a proliferation of Land’O’Lakes and Tropicana products in all the fridge pictures so far. I wonder what that’s about....
wow. i think i just got lost in this blog.... trying to read archives..... huh.
In my ideal world I would have a fridge just for condiments. Then I could have a shelf for each continent LOL.
What “little whitebread redneck mountain town in the Poconos” would that be?
It’s a Soup Lady sighting! Welcome back, stranger. 
I guess I should fess up. Little whitebread redneck mountain town in the Poconos would be Honesdale, Pennsylvania, the county seat of Wayne County, the northeasternmost point of PA. I ran screaming out of Honesdale at my graduation from high school, only to return for a year to work on the newspaper and ostensibly save money for graduate school. Life, of course, had other plans, which led me to New York.
Useless Trivia 101: About two weeks ago Honesdale was the subject of City Confidential on A&E. (In 1986 a young woman died in a drunk-driving accident, in which her boyfriend was at the wheel. His blood alcohol level was under the legal limit for DUI, so he was convicted on a lesser charge, one that would have sent him to prison for a year. The night before his sentencing, his dead girlfriend’s brother showed up at his house, supposedly to “just talk,” and ended up shooting him in the head four times. This was the actual subject of City Confidential.) It was very weird to hear Paul Winfield referring to Honesdale as “Paradise in the Poconos.” Those of us unlucky enough to spend our adolescences there knew better than that.
The Soup Lady knows what’s what in the Poconos - you forgot to say that Honesdale was the home of the first commercial steam engine in America. the thriving metroplolis of Wilkes-Barre is my hometown, but I never wore a sash there and I certainly could never get my hair that big.
I have been searching the for some people to write about the Poconos mountains. I found this entery and you and the soup lady seem to know a lot about the Poconos. Would either of you be willing to write some stories for http://www.poconospoconos.com
Thank you for your fun facts about PA and your time.
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ACK! There’s mayo on the shelf. Is it stealth mayo? Did you know that it was there? Of course, mayo comes from eggs. Maybe it’s all part of the research!
Will retreat now to my non-Mayo refrigerator that is void of eggs, as well, since I just don’t like eggs.
I should take pictures and play along.