The Financial Crisis Support Group

But instead, I just keep on keepin' on....



I just got back from the grocery store. I had to buy dog food, bleach, mustard, provolone, salami (not deli regrettably), mayonnaise, baked flan, half and half and butter (I forgot the butter...doh!)

Anywho, I thought I'de make myself a nice sandwich. I began by opening the bleach so I could wipe down the counters...the bleach wouldn't open. I read the directions, as if I had to...I knew it was a push and turn, which I did, to no avail. So just for ha ha's, I "read the instructions"....alas, I was right, push down and turn cap...which I did.... again, to no avail.

Never a quitter, I was going to open this motha fucka if it was the last thing I did. Bare in mind, that my hands are not arthritic (thank you God!) and in fact, when my kids ask me for a massage, they preface it by stating "mom, use your happy hands" (whatever that means).

So I grab a towel for more torque and proceed again....finally, a success. But not yet, says the "safety gods", now you must remove the "pull and lift" tab.

O.K....I've done this one before...no problemo. So I lifted and pulled, and lifted and pulled, and lifted and pulled....wtf!!!!

Being a genius, I grabbed a 12 inch chef knife and hacked away at the little sucka, until there were enough holes for the bleach to "pour" out, quasi safely (although when pouring in those dish scrubbers with the long handle and the tiny little opening where you can put dish detergent and, in my case, bleach, let's just say some of the bleach got in there. Progress not perfection).

Now, I've scrubbed down the counters with my bleach concoction, and I'm ready for my long awaited next task....making the famous "biteme" sandwich.

Now, I am not a fool. In fact, I am a great anticipator of potential "challenges". So, as I pull out the new mayo, the new mustard, the new package of salami, and most importantly, the new provolone, I'm anticipating a bit of a "challenge", a necessary struggle if you will.

I'll start with the mayo and mustard because as sure as my name is "biteme", they will have a "pull and lift" tab. This time, I have my 12 inch chef knife ready. First the mayo. O.K., the top twisted off easily enough, maybe this won't be so bad. The "pull and lift" tab reveals itself. I stare it down like I would a driver who passes me on the left in a residential neighborhood. I "pull" and then, I "lift", as instructed (after all I am a very good Catholic girl and do as I'm told). I try again and again....and finally I hear the yiddish voice which lives in my head, saying "What are you thinking shiksa? Mayonnaise on salami???!!!! Dairy and meat!??!!.."


I obey my inner jew who speaks in perfect Yiddish and put the mayo away. One less thing I have to struggle with.

Now for the spicy brown mustard. After all, not even my inner, Yiddish speaking jew could object to that!

So I turn the top, ever repeating..."lefty loosey, righty tighty"....so lefty loosey I go...and once again, that little mantra did not fail me. Off came the mustard cap. I'm almost home....then comes the ever familiar, "lift and pull" tab.

I lift and I pull and I lift and I pull...then I take my 12 inch chef knife and begin to stab at it as I did to the bleach...except by now, I am extremely pissed off, so I stab it so hard and so many times, like an overkill, and the knife finally goes thru the top and out of the side of the plastic mustard container. At this point, I'm just grateful to have access.


O.k, mission accomplished...I have my mustard with the new squeeze hole on the side, I've toasted my bread, and now, for the salami. How hard can this be? (o.k, shut the "f" up.)

Healthy choice is the brand...a nice little package, appearing to be "friendly" to it's opener, but I do have a healthy dose of pessimism. After all, "insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results".

I attempt to pull the top off, but the top is constrained by, not one, not two, but four industrial strength pieces of tape. Ever evolving, I don't even go there...I pull down my never fail me "kitchen scissors" and simply cut the industrial strength tape. Ah, success at last (I'll pull the super tape off of my "kitchen scissors" much, much later.

The top is opened. Now for the internal wrapping trappings. I'm feeling really confident now....I go to the red arrow where it says tear, and I begin to "tear".

You've gotta be "f"en kidding me!!!????? Now, I could have used my "kitchen scissors" next, but I'm thinking, no, I will tear this Motha........after all if you tear it, rather than cutting it, you can reseal it. I am nobody's fool.

So I grunted like a steroid riddled, vein popping, fake tan covered, determined to use every bit of that gym membership, trying to impress "the guys", body builder.

As I struggled with that salami package on the floor, I said a little gratitude prayer that my kids weren't home to see this.

O.K., I surrender. "Kitchen scissors", I once again, call on your omnificence (so what if I can't reseal).

Next, the provolone. I saved this one for last because this package of provolone, was equipped with the nemesis of all nemesis. It had a "tear hear" arrow, little cut outs to make the tearing "easier" and, last but not least, the dreaded re closable "zip lock".


A little too close to the zip lock, you can't pull apart the remaining plastic to get to the "unzip" portion of the program. A little too high, well, it's like you've done nothing at all. So, you have to aim somewhere in the middle of where it says "tear hear" and the lock itself....

I now know that tearing is an impossibility, so once again, I go to my trusty "kitchen scissors". I identify the red "tear here" arrow, and the "lock". If I am to succeed, I have to strike a perfect balance between the two. Now, with precision like accuracy, much like you would see at a briss, I strike my mark.

After I stopped crying, I ripped the provolone package open with my teeth, like an animal, as this is what I've been reduced to.

I grab my now cold toast, I place the provolone strategically along the length of the toast, (italian bread which I opened 2 days before, so I was very grateful for the burden I didn't have to bare today). I then folded each piece of salami in half, and alligned it along the provolone. I grabbed my yiddishly approved mustard, held it on it's side and proceeded to squeeze with all my might, until the spicey brown squirted out of the side of the container (I can always clean up the mess later) and onto my sandwich.

The final act. Placing the corresponding piece of toast on top, and grabbing, by now my easy access, 12 inch chef knife (see, I am an eternal optimist) and proceeded to cut the "biteme" sandwich on a perfect angle.

I thought, wouldn't it be great to have a tall glass of cold milk with this delicious sandwich? Then I remembered that it was a "fresh", unopened gallon, so instead, I opted for a paper cup full of tap water, no ice.

I didn't feed the animals because I absolutely couldn't face the Draconian hand held, hand cranked can opener (sorry Mr. Chico and MaryJane) As far as the flan, who needs desert ? I know enough not to push it (too far). Amen.

The Moral? Your "kitchen scissors" must be kept in the exact same place, every moment of every day. Like I tell my kids, "touch my "f-en" "kitchen scissors", and prepare to be an "orphan"....


What's your potentially suicidal frustration?
Posted on 07/25/09, 12:07 am