Toxic Waste in Greenpoint

July 5, 2007 by
Filed under: Area 51, Greenpoint Magic, Vomit 

Feeling the holiday spirit, I decided to whip up some tasty goodies to nibble on July 4th. My menu du jour was:

  1. Tomato Salad
  2. Baked Eggplant
  3. Hummus
  4. Brie
  5. Sourdough baguette

All the previous were delicious, by the way. But the purpose of this post is not to boast of my culinary prowess. Rather, it is to expound upon an unpleasant task I had to perform BEFORE prepping the above foodstuffs: cleaning out the refrigerator.

Since I have more time at my disposal (and have a lower threshold for abject filth), I perform most of the household cleaning. I do not want to suggest that my husband does nothing; he does some work— just not as much.

I am by no means a poster child for stellar home economics myself; when one of our cats throws up I usually wait a little while before cleaning it up. I do this because more often than not one of our other cats will come along and eat it. This apartment is a little ecosystem and why should I be so presumptuous as to tamper with it— especially since if it means there is less work for me to do? I ascribe to the Tom Sawyer work ethic: why whitewash a fence if you can trick some rube into doing it for you? Work smart, not hard.

The previous having been said, yes I was a co-enabler of the horrors you are about to behold. But— and this is a BIG BUT— I am not the only person in this household to blame. Capiche?

The last 2-3 weeks I have been insanely busy. My husband, however, recently took seven days off.




Question: What happens when Heather is running around like a madwoman because she has to work extra hours and has no Internet or telephone service?

Answer: Nothing. And by “nothing” I mean our refrigerator continues its transformation from a place of nourishment into something more akin to Chernobyl.

Tuesday, July 3rd, 5:30 p.m.

After a whole day of procrastination I finally got the wherewithal to confront my enemy: several months of festering foodstuffs. I was assisted and/or anesthetized by several glasses White Zinfindel. To do such an onerous and repulsive task completely sober was decidedly NOT an option. The following rogue’s gallery of rotten food should help you understand why. (If you have the means, please play “The End” by the Doors while viewing. — Ed. Note)

Exhibit A
Estimated Age: Three Months

Rotten Tomatoes

Getting my husband to eat vegetables is a bit of a task. For this reason I will occasionally put rice in my tomato salad as an enticement. The white stuff in the above salad is not rice.

Exhibit B
Estimated Age: Four Months

Barf Stew

This is was Nigerian Bean Stew. I got the recipe from Madhur Jaffrey’s World Vegetarian Cookbook. Since I only make this dish during cooler, wet months (because it bears a strong similarity to chili), I estimate its age to be four months.

Exhibit C
Estimated Age: Unknown

Don’t you make my brown rice blue…

…don’t you make make brown rice blue…

I have no friggin idea how old this is. When I threw it into the garbage can a puff of blue dust tickled my nostrils. Scrumptious.

Exhibit D
Estimated Age: Probably three months

All Natural

I couldn’t find a “eat by” date on this container. This made me a little nervous, as rotten dairy food makes one helluva stink.


*Whew!* It’s just a bunch of rotten onions. Judging from how coursely they are chopped, I can safely state that this is my husband’s handiwork.

Exhibit E
Estimated Age: Three— possibly four— months

Special Sauce

Of all the rotten food I sorted, this one by far smelled the worst.

When I was a kid my parents had some friends who had a son my age. These people also had a teenage son who would occasionally be charged with babysitting the two of us. Big mistake.

One time he sat us at his grandparent’s house in California. Both his grandparents had emphysema and would cough up lung cookies into a coffee can. One time, when I was left alone with this sadistic motherfucker, he shoved my face into this can. I mention this story because the above goo reminds me of what I saw.

The previous is only a selection of the revolting substances I handled last Tuesday. There was more. Much, much more. When my husband arrived home I stood in the kitchen, seething. Upon noticing that I had cleaned out the refrigerator he said:

…I had been meaning to do that but I was waiting…

FOR ME TO DO IT!” I bellowed.

Nothing else was said.

And on that note, dear readers, I too have nothing else to say. Save perhaps that I have left a “present” in the refrigerator for my husband to find. I won’t say what it is, but I will tell you it is six months old.

Miss Heather


8 Comments on Toxic Waste in Greenpoint

  1. addrobinson on Thu, 5th Jul 2007 9:19 am
  2. WOW. You know how much that makes me feel better about my fridge? TONS, thanks for making me feel much less lazy.

  3. missheather on Thu, 5th Jul 2007 9:24 am
  4. No problem, glad to be of service. To be fair my husband deserves his share of credit as well.

  5. Brooklyn Bitch on Thu, 5th Jul 2007 10:51 am
  6. Wow. That tomato salad is just, wow.
    Nesters will note, Motivation: It’s been brought.

  7. begonia44 on Thu, 5th Jul 2007 2:08 pm
  8. you should make this into a scratch and sniff book for kids. they would go crazy for it!

  9. missheather on Thu, 5th Jul 2007 5:32 pm
  10. My husband has read this post. He has already searched the refrigerator twice for my biological weapon. In fact, he won’t quit asking what/where it is. I didn’t tell him. He’ll just have to follow his nose…

  11. Rebecca11222 on Thu, 5th Jul 2007 6:29 pm
  12. “If you can’t find a good man, RAISE one” – Wanda Sykes

  13. javagirl on Sat, 7th Jul 2007 8:25 pm
  14. You need me to swing by and clean out your fridge. If TODAY is the expiration date, I’m tossing it in the trash.

  15. I’m Starting a Design Firm « Oh, Rachael. on Wed, 1st Feb 2012 3:01 pm
  16. […] course, neutral isn’t for everyone! This moldy salad, inspired by a photo from New York Shitty, creates the perfect palette for anyone who wants a natural feel with a POP. The yellow and […]

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