People, I am going to Hell. Seven times over, now, it seems. I am not coveting my neighbor's wife, no. But I am envious of those fancy ipod touches all the kids have these days.
Let me just tell you, I have a rational reason why an ipod touch is actually a necessity in my life, and not merely a luxury or convenience.
You see, the other day while shopping for chairs to fill my abnormally large living room (which looks even more devoid due to the glaring absence of an entertainment center and television), Ian and I stumbled upon an old steel (iron? some heavy metal that rusts, anyway) meat grinder. I have, in fact, made that final step from being a normal, bookish graduate student who loves to cook to a full-on crazy. Watch out, people. I've acquired a meat grinder.
At any rate, it is perhaps the wisest four dollars I have ever spent, since I have owned it for four days and have used it to grind meat not once, but twice. Do you have any idea what ground beef tastes like when it is free of bones and intestines? Do you have any idea how much cheaper it is to buy boneless chicken thighs and then grind them yourself??
Now, I would love to share a picture of my meat grinder with you. It really is the quaintest little thing that could ever take your finger off. There is this wooden handle and a big circular blade and a bit of rust that I'm not too worried about. I would love to share a picture of ground beef pouring out its side, just to prove that the image is just as disgusting as the phrase I just typed. I would even share a picture of the spaghetti after the freshly ground beef was cooked. Or a picture of the paler ground chicken that I used to stuff eggplants with the following day.
But I can't.
There was a little incident a year and half ago with my camera and a floor.
And I have no ipod touch.