Friday, October 13, 2006

Toast and kittens.

Okay, so I've had a really busy week...and have been the WORST BLOGGER EVER. Alas, I dug deep within the Mary Campbell archives and thought of this funny story to tell...a little insight into why, perhaps, I have struggled with food issues in my life.
It all started back in high school when we adopted our cat, Nicholas. Nicholas was one of those cats that had absolutely no use for humans. He did his own thing, was very independent and had a very odd personality. Well, my mom had this fabulous toaster. It was probably a hand-me-down from her mother, but was one of those great old stainless steel 50's toasters.

I was home from college one weekend and went to make myself some toast for breakfast...I put the toast in the toaster and about 2 minutes later, smelled a most horrific odor coming from the toaster...the following conversation ensued:

Mary: mom, WHAT is that awful smell coming from the toaster?

Mom: oh, Nicholas likes to watch himself pee and has taken to peeing on the toaster.

Mary: WHAT? GROSS? Mom, why don't you just get RID of that toaster and get a new one...that is disgusting!!

Mom: well, we just turn the toaster on REALLY HIGH and burn out the won't hurt just smells gross.

And they wondered why I needed so much therapy...I rest my case.


minus five said...

yet another reason why the only good cat is a dead cat.

that is freakin' hilarious though. i'll add it to the list of things i say to other people's kids.

Tania Rochelle said...

Wow. To think that every family has dirty little secrets...


You just don't know the shame I've lived with, Tania...

Martha Gill said...

Compelled to share where my eating issues started. My mother was a major junior leaguer and volunteered to "house" the medical museum". This consisted of brains, lungs kidney stones and various human organs.

My brother and I came home from school to have a snack - imagine the shock, awe and horror when we undid the tupperware containers left in the fridge.

The smell; I will never, ever forget.

Needless to say I dropped 10 pounds and still have difficulty eating "meat". When my husband left me - oh and I for one LOVE your fairy tale of shopping - I gained 10-15 pounds.

Cross your fingers for me cause I'm counting on my disorder to return me to alpha girl status; even at 48.