>> Saturday, January 3, 2009
People. There are no words. That up there? That's my new toaster. A 1940 Toastmaster. Seriously. It weighs enough to kill a man if thrown with sufficient force AND makes a kick-ass slice of toast. Win-win, right? Of course the heat coming off the top is enough to melt the underside of my upper cabinets but that's what it takes to get toast that's toasty on the outside and soft in the middle. Trust me, any so-called "fire risk" is totally worth it.
In case you were wondering I did run a complicated little algorithm to determine exactly what the mathematical chances were of me and my new love ever actually meeting. The variables included; Me, Him, holiday weekend, two bucks and Mormon thrift store. Statistically I am more likely to be Elvis' than to own that particular toaster. Obviously Jesus wanted me to have it.
My second Resolution?
Buy more crap at thrift stores.