I've recently realized that I don't know what the hell I have in my refrigerator. My girlfriend Anti-Facebook Girl and I were too lazy to go anywhere one Friday night in the fall, so we ordered a tomato pie with bacon-and-cheese French fries. She told me to ask them for some Ranch dressing on the side. I did so, but they forgot to give it to me.
"Don't worry," I assured her. "I have some Ranch dressing in my fridge!"
I scurried over to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of Ranch dressing. I proudly handed it to her, but she seemed a bit trepid.
Anti-Facebook Girl: Is it still good?
Me: What do you mean?
Anti-Facebook Girl: Did it expire yet?
Me: Oh, I'm not sure. There's no date on it so I assumed it would never expire.
Anti-Facebook Girl: What? Let me see that...
Anti-Facebook Girl took the bottle and scanned it carefully. It took her about 20 seconds, but she found the expiration date that I failed to locate.
Anti-Facebook Girl: Walt! This expired in November 2012!
Me: Oh... does that mean we can't eat it?
Anti-Facebook Girl didn't even bother responding to that. She got off the couch and scoured the fridge to see if she could have more luck finding some Ranch dressing. She didn't have success in that regard, as the 2012 version was the only bottle of Ranch dressing that I had in my possession.
Anti-Facebook Girl: Walt, you have five jars of salsa, yet you don't have a single bottle of salad dressing?
Me: Is that weird?
Anti-Facebook Girl: Yes! Why do you need five jars of salsa anyway?
Me: Umm... I don't know? Emergencies, I guess.
Perhaps the better question would be, "Who wouldn't want five jars of salsa in their fridge?" I know all of you reading this are jealous right now because salsa is freaking awesome. All of you, that is, except for the person who happens to have six jars of salsa in his fridge. And in that case, I'm jealous of you, my friend. Well played.
Anti-Facebook Girl perused the rest of my fridge. She discovered a bottle of cranberry juice that had expired in October 2012 and some chocolate syrup that went back in December 2012. I wasn't even aware that I had chocolate syrup in my fridge, so the realization that I couldn't use it made me extremely depressed.
Perhaps the most amusing item that Anti-Facebook Girl found was some orange juice that she discovered later when she was making breakfast (some delicious bacon-egg-and-cheese sandwiches).
Anti-Facebook Girl: Walt, I bought some orange juice, but did you know that you had a carton of orange juice in your fridge that expired in August 2012?
Me: Oh, that's cool.
Anti-Facebook Girl: Cool? The orange juice was blue!
Me: Really? That's disgusting then, but I guess it would make for a good decoration.
Anti-Facebook Girl: Walt, if I find one more expired thing in your fridge, I'm going to make you eat or drink it!
I've since been more cautious about things in my fridge. For example, I just recently found a bottle of apple-cranberry juice (**) I don't remember putting in there. I looked for an expiration date, and saw that it's June 2014. Huzzah! Even though I won't drink it at all, I can keep it in my fridge for another seven months!
(**) Who the hell drinks apple-cranberry juice? More importantly, who thought mixing apples and cranberries would be a good idea? Sounds disgusting to me. Why not just have a grape-Windex concoction, or perhaps a blueberry-arsenic cocktail?
Let me back up for a second. The reason why Anti-Facebook Girl was so curious about the Ranch dressing expiration date was because she's already had a cooking experience with me. A few Sundays prior to this, Anti-Facebook Girl came over with dinner - pizza burgers! The caveat was that she would teach me how to make them.
If you've been reading Jerks of the Week for a while, I can only imagine how flabbergasted you must be right now. After all, I don't even know where to buy eggs because I still don't know where the local eggery is located. I keep asking people, and all they do is either look at me strangely for laugh in my face. Well, EXCUSE ME for being unaware of these eggery locations. Because there are like sooo many of them!!!
Making pizza burgers with Anti-Facebook Girl turned out to be quite an awesome experience. Not only did the pizza burgers turn out to be delicious; but I found it amusing to discover how many simple culinary-related things I was unaware of.
Before I begin, I feel obligated to put a disclaimer in here. If you're as clueless as I am when it comes to cooking, please don't use this as any sort of learning guide. This happened back in early October, so I'm writing it off memory. I'm not responsible if you burn your house down while trying to make your own pizza burgers. Not that I care if your house burns and half of your face is blown off; I just don't want you to sue me. K, thanks.
The first thing Anti-Facebook Girl asked me to do was turn on the oven. Uh oh...
Me: How do you do that? This button?
Anti-Facebook Girl: No, that's the microwave.
Me: Oh, I thought that "microwave" and "oven" were synonyms. Maybe I'm thinking of "stove" and "oven."
Anti-Facebook Girl: Haha, I hope you're not being serious.
Me: Uhh... yeah, just joking! How do I turn on the oven, this button?
Anti-Facebook Girl: That's the pilot light.
Me: This button?
Anti-Facebook Girl: You just pressed the button to change the time.
Anti-Facebook Girl showed me how to turn on the oven on. At least I think it was the oven. Maybe it was the stove... or perhaps the microwave... I turned a nob, and voila, a little blue flame lit under one of the four squares. I was on my way to becoming a cooking pro!
Frying Pan Cover:
Anti-Facebook Girl then asked if I had a frying pan cover. Uh oh...
Me: I didn't know frying pans had covers.
Anti-Facebook Girl: How'd you even get this frying pan?
Me: It was a housewarming gift!
Anti-Facebook Girl: Well, we need something to cover the patties. Do you have a pot? We can cover them with the top of a pot.
A pot? Hmm... I knew I had a pot somewhere, but I couldn't remember where it was. I searched high and low, but had no luck.
Me: I can't find my pot. I think someone stole it.
Anti-Facebook Girl: What? It's right here by the toaster. I was asking if you had a larger pot.
Me: Oh, I didn't see that. I know how to use the toaster. It only took me two hours to master that!
Anti-Facebook Girl: That's great, Walt, but we need a larger pot. I assume you don't have one.
Alas, I did not own a larger pot. Quite honestly, I thought the pot I had was as large as they came, but then I remembered that witches often boil skulls and stuff in large cauldrons. I don't know of any magic spells, so I never thought that I'd need a cauldron. Then again, I didn't think I'd ever be making pizza burgers either.
My pot lid was small, so we were only able to cover two patties at a time. Anti-Facebook Girl manned that operation, so she told me to cut the rolls and the cheese.
Anti-Facebook Girl: Do you know where your cutting board is? Wait, that's a stupid question. Do you think you have a cutting board?
Me: What's that, like a board you cut stuff on?
Anti-Facebook Girl: Yes...
Me: That sounds familiar!
My mom bought me a cutting board a couple of years ago. "You can cut apples on this," she said. I've never cut a single apple. I'm sorry, but I'm just wary of knives. What if I'm cutting an apple and the knife slips and I chop off my hand? Worse yet, what if the knife really slips and slashes my eye out?
This is why I've never used a knife before to cut anything. I have knives in my house, but they were housewarming gifts. I wouldn't be opposed to using my butcher's cleaver. That was also a housewarming present, but I've been using it primarily as a weapon against possible intruders who want to steal my Beverly Hills 90210 DVD collection.
However, it was time for a change. Apples are just apples; pizza burgers are another story. Being a fat man, I was willing to sacrifice my hand or my eye for a pizza burger, so I grabbed a knife and began slicing the rolls. I was being careful, but it still seemed overly difficult.
Me: This isn't working too well.
Anti-Facebook Girl: That's because you're using a butter knife.
Me: They have knife for butter?
Anti-Facebook Girl: Yes! Grab a knife with sharp ridges on it.
This worked better, but I was still having issues. I cut crookedly and slowly even though I tried to speed up the process. Anti-Facebook Girl laughed at my struggles and took the knife out of my hand. She then sliced the rolls very quickly.
I was in awe, but I was very confused about how she managed to complete this task so quickly. I think I'll stick to my butcher's cleaver.
Anti-Facebook Girl then had me slice up some cheese. Once again, she had to take over because I was making a mess of things. She had some difficulty this time because my recycling materials kept getting in her way.
Anti-Facebook Girl: Walt, what are all of these bottles doing here?
Me: They're recycling.
Anti-Facebook Girl: I know, but can you move them somewhere else?
Me: On it!
Finally, a task I could accomplish on my own! I quickly gathered all of the recyclable materials and moved them to the kitchen table.
Anti-Facebook Girl: Walt, are you serious?
Me: Serious about what?
Anti-Facebook Girl: Don't you have a recycling bin to put those things in?
Me: Yeah, I guess, but I like having them on the kitchen counter so I can take them straight to the garage whenever I go to my car.
Anti-Facebook Girl laughed at me again, but she no doubt would eventually see the brilliance in my recycling system.
At one point during the cooking process, Anti-Facebook Girl asked me if I had a spatula. I just stared back blankly at her.
"Never mind," she said. "I'll look for one."
I thought she would come up disappointed, but it turns out that I did indeed have a spatula! I'm still not really sure what a spatula is or what it does, but I have one! I'm sure you are all jealous.
Anti-Facebook Girl brought a can of tomato sauce. I love tomato sauce. There was just one problem...
Anti-Facebook Girl: Ah crap, I just realized that you might not have a can opener.
Me: A can opener? I have a butcher's cleaver. That might work.
Anti-Facebook Girl: No, we need something that'll open up a can.
Me: Like a corkscrew or spatula?
Anti-Facebook Girl: No, an actual can opener.
Me: Uh oh...
We once again searched high and low, but we were unable to find a can opener. I just assumed that all cans opened by themselves, but I guess you learn something new every day.
"Maybe you have some tomato sauce in your fridge!" Anti-Facebook Girl said hopefully.
She opened the fridge and looked around.
Anti-Facebook Girl: Walt, why do you have five salsa jars?
Me: Salsa is awesome.
Anti-Facebook Girl: Yeah, but... eww... this salami you have here expired in May!
Me: That's lame!
Anti-Facebook Girl: Why didn't you throw that out? Oh, here's some tomato sauce! Is it still good?
I honestly had no idea because I had no clue that I even had tomato sauce in my fridge. We couldn't find an expiration date on the jar, but Anti-Facebook Girl tasted it and determined that it was fine.
About 15 minutes later, I was scarfing down the first of my three pizza burgers. It was delicious.
"See?" Anti-Facebook Girl said. "Now you can make your own pizza burgers!"
I wasn't as confident. I told her that I'd need to be supervised during the next few tries. After all, someone will need to drive me to the hospital if I poke my eye out trying to slice a roll of bread.