Sunday, 9 October 2011

Blending Into The Background

I mentioned the vegetable box in the last post (the one where the Fleetch and I put zombie makeup on just for fun, much to the bewilderment of our neighbours, especially when we had to take the trash out) - it was fantastic because there was so much of it, but at the same time there was SO MUCH OF IT. I bought a blender on Monday after convincing myself that by liquifying the fruit and vegetables, I would be able to reduce the physical mass and there would be the added bonus of tricking my body into accepting more vitamins than it has had since I was about 7. I made a delicious smoothie from grapes, apple, banana and orange/mango juice, and then in typical otter fashion, I counteracted a lot of the healthy goodness by adding alcohol. Mischief knows no bounds. Funnily enough when I called my mother for our weekly chat, we had the following conversation:

Me: So, I bought a blender.

Mum: Oh, good. So you'll make smoothies and things?

Me: Yes, the Fleetch and I made some already.

(There is a brief pause)

Mum: You should probably add something to that.

Me: Way ahead of you, Mum.

Mum: Vodka?

Me: Peach schnapps.

Mum: That's my girl.

However, a problem arose when the Fleetch and I decided to invite our friends round yesterday evening. We expected the second vegetable box to arrive in the afternoon, so we had offered to cook a nice homemade healthy meal for all six of us, plus special ice cream smoothies. While I was waiting for the vegetable box to arrive, I wandered into the kitchen and considered making a breakfast smoothie for myself, but as I looked around, I noticed a crucial part of the blender was missing. I could see the two blending cups and two lids, but not the attached spinny thing (I'm using the technical terms straight from the manual, obviously). I figured the Fleetch must have absent mindedly tidied it away, so I looked for it. It wasn't in the drawers, or the cupboards, or the sink, or the dishwasher. I searched the kitchen for over an hour, muttering in confusion to myself, and couldn't find the spinny thing. Even the discovery of a banana note didn't help my mood (the Fleetch had drawn what I later discovered were jellyfish on it for some reason known only to her, but what I first assumed to be coconuts on fire). Eventually, the Fleetch came home.

Me: Dude. I can't find the attached spinny thing for the blender.

Fleetch: You're kidding! I looked for it yesterday and couldn't find it either

Me: The other problem is, the vegetable box never arrived.

Fleetch: So what you're saying is, we have four people coming over for dinner and we promised them two things, neither of which are happening now?

Me:.... Pretty much.

Fleetch. ......Dayum.

Me:..... Yeah.

Fleetch: Well, look. It must be  here somewhere, right? It's not like we'd have taken it out of the flat.

Me: Or out of the kitchen. That doesn't even make sense.

We searched for the spinny thing for the next hour, while our guests arrived and sat around growing hungrier and drunker. We moved the washing machine. The Fleetch took a knife to the back of the kitchen sink cabinet to see if anything had fallen down there. We checked the hall, our bedrooms, the living room, even followed the cats around accusing them of stealing the spinny thing. Eventually, wearied by the search, I met the Fleetch in the kitchen.

Me: Dude. I think we have to give up.

Fleetch: No! We will NEVER give up!

Me: I think you've gone blender-crazy. You have to let it go.

Fleetch: (poking at the blender) It's just that it must be here somewh-........Oh. Oh, crap.

Me: What?

There is a long, horrible silence, while she holds up the spinny thing, which has been attached to the blender the entire time and we make desperate, we-are-such-idiots eyes at each other.

Me: (whispering) Let's just say we found it.

Fleetch: (whispering) Okay.

Me: We'll be heroes. No one has to know.

Fleetch: Yeah right, like you're not going to blog about this.

Me: True dat.


  1. I was *sure* you were going to have thrown the spinny thing out with the rubbish. Stupid awareness of narrative conventions. Curse you, !

  2. Aha! Clearly I have mastered the surprise twist ending :) I almost wish I'd thrown it out, that would have been less embarrassing than looking for something that was already there.