Nick Postagulous
Thursday, September 02, 2004
Cow Troubles Part I
The other day, or week, Alison took a roast out of the freezer and started it thawing. It thawed and thawed. And then, we didn’t put it into the crock pot to cook, because it was so dang dark colored and just plain gone bad. So, Alison threw it out into our standard green 90 gallon garbage can outside.
To add some background to the story, let’s all remember that I was rather sick over the weekend, and I’m not sure I’m over it. I’m nauseous right now when I’m writing this, but then again, I know the rest of the story.
It’s summer here and in the day it gets warm. And in the evening it gets cool and moist. I woke up on Monday late. I’m supposed to have my Palm wake me at 5:30, then I set a snooze on it for ten minutes. Then I get up and get ready and the alarm on my watch at 6:20 tells me that I need to go. But I woke up with the 6:20 alarm.
After hurrying to get ready while still dizzy from the sickness, I grabbed the bathroom garbage bags from the master bathroom and the baby changing bathroom and took them out. The big green garbage can looked like it was covered in rice or something.
No, not rice. Hundreds.Of.Maggots.
That kind of thing can really freak you out in the morning. It freaked me out. But, I just went on to work, the end.
Cow Troubles II: The Meat’s Gone Bad!
And speaking of bad meat, and not in the “it’ll make you sick” way, the meat from Wal-Mart totally sucks. It tastes lousy. Really lousy. A guy at work said that Wal-Mart buys up all the beef that no-one else wants. It sure tastes like it.
[Note: warning/foreshadowing the following story has vomiting]
Last night, Alison made hamburger patties with way too much seasoning, on purpose, since it was crappy Wal-Mart meat. She also half-made some Rice-a-roni by not browning it before. It looked all mushy, so we ignored it. I assume that Alison fed it to the garbage disposal. So, our meal consisted of only one little nastyburger patty each. I wolfed mine, which wasn’t that good, but sure was spicy.
Then Alison asked me if the roast beef (deli type, not the maggot in the garbage can type) that we bought last week was good anymore. She said it didn’t smell right to her, but that since I’m the one that can tell if meat is bad best, she wanted me to check it out. And check I did.
I got the package out and smelled it. I couldn’t smell it. It didn’t occur to me that I had spice face and couldn’t smell anything. I smelled and smelled at it. Declared that it was partly frozen, and ate a little of it. “I think it’s freezer burned,” I said as I put a little more in my mouth.
[3...2...1...]
“It’s bad!” I said as I started spitting what was in my mouth into the sink. My body took over and made me vomit out the bad roast beef. Oddly, my body didn’t feel the need to get rid of the lame Wal-Mart beef that I’d eaten just four minutes before.
And thus concludes my nasty beef stories. I would appreciate a quiet golf clap. Thank you.
