I should point out that I fixed the guestbook. When I uploaded my new site I was very careful to make sure that the page looked ok, but not if it WORKED, which it didn’t since I deleted the script that runs it. Ooops. I managed to get it back up, but my search engine was not so lucky. I think I should just bury the whole thing in the backyard.
I very seldom get physically angry with people. Examples of “physically angry” would include punching, kicking, etc. It is also very rare that I get verbally abusive, though it happens more often than physical action (but still rarely and usually from the soundproof confines of my car). This is the sort of unacceptable outburst that I usually save for inanimate kitchen objects. Just this evening, the tomato paste in one of those damn narrow cans vexed me to the point that I struck it with a large spoon. Not to the point of mutilation, just enough to get my point across (teachin’ you a lesson!). The inanimate objects and I have been at war for many years (THEY started it). This is most likely because they just sit there, unmoving, with their little smiles and their little attitudes and they yield no promise of changing their behaviour at any point in the future. Damn! Outbursting (not even a word but…) by me in this manner is most often done in a very private setting. There are no visitors around, no friends, no family. This, sadly, has not been the case during every instance of “kitchen rage”. Once, in the company of others, I swore and enacted my vengeance upon a roll of sandwich wrap. It was ugly, let me tell you (the situation). You see, Saran wrap is hard enough to deal with at the best of times, it sticks to itself, it sticks on the roll, and it refuses to stick to what you want it to. Its cousin is even worse – “handi”wrap is a devious little bastard of a wrap that was engineered for the sole property of its affinity for sticking to itself. The original aim of this product was to punish prisoners by repeatedly making them attempt to find the edge on the roll. When this program was abolished in the early ’80’s, the resulting use found by the manufacturer rendered it the denizen of kitchens everywhere. One day it managed to get itself, through NO fault of my own, stuck on the roll, and withdrew its edge so that I could never find it. I proceeded to smash the roll senseless on the edge of the counter. I looked up, saw the horrified faces of those in the adjacent dining room, and quietly withdrew from the scene of the crime, tossing the evidence in a garbage can on my way out (which tried to trip me for good measure). Ever since then, the inanimate objects have been out to get me, a collaboration that I also blame as the principle reason that my cooking often doesn’t initially work out as I had planned. This sort of kitchen handicap has plagued me ever since they decided to put their little knives in my back every chance they got. Today the tomato paste just decided to twist the knife a little more. I can only imagine what they will do to thwart my attempt at making carrot cake tomorrow, but at least I can take solace in the fact that it will not be (all) my fault.