By Michael Goldstein
By Dennis Romero
By Sarah Fenske
By Matthew Mullins
By Patrick Range McDonald
By LA Weekly
By Dennis Romero
By Simone Wilson
So full of margarita gunk that you’re thinking about getting your feed-tubes tied? Try reseating your motor-base rings, tightening your feeder caps, and polishing your pouring lips and speed-control buttons on Monday night to avoid an embarrassing malfunction next weekend. Remember: You’re more than just another three-button wham-bam-chop-grate-and-grind-you-ma’am blade. You stir, you shred, you purée, whip, mix, blend, frappé and liquefy with the best of them. Except this week, when you’re broken. No user-serviceable parts. Mysterious sticky substance plays important role.
COFFEE MAKERS (www.CSUA.Berkeley.EDU/~geek/mov/coffee.mov)
While drip-makers and percolators overcome overbearing clients or parents with diplomacy during Venusian retrogrades, infusion-makers face a difficult week as Pluto’s clogged screens again mock your every downward plunge. It’s not your fault but that of a misguided friend who thinks you’re to be filled with the sort of fine powders suited to espresso machines and snuff boxes. Pay more attention to your instincts; perhaps it’s time you trust someone new to fill you with the sort of coarse but smooth grounds you need to beget your thick, black magic. Espresso is still legal.
RECHARGEABLE DENTAL-HYGIENE APPLIANCES (http://wht.asd103.org/Music/Songs/BrushTeeth.htm)
Throughout the week, rotary plaque removers will be mostly white plastic on the outside with substantially darker and more metallic compounds within. Usage should remain at a steady twice-daily rate as plaque-heavy Uranus enters the chicken-flossing season, chunky style. Replacement heads unavailable. Pray gingivitis doesn’t become the Next Hip Thing.
AIR CONDITIONERS (www.novelco.com/airconditioner/index.htm)
Roguish Saturn’s square to the moon keeps your landlord from fitting you with the filter retainer and condenser coils you’ve needed since last August. But it doesn’t matter. You’re broken. You’re not even a real air conditioner. Your cabinet’s cracked, your power cord’s frayed, your air filter’s filled with ants. If not for you, we could see out of the window. No, don’t do anything this week. Not one goddamn thing. Just sit there, off, and feel the rust overcoming your evaporator coils and your “stainless”-steel moisture-collector pan. You never did work, did you? Just an air-conditioner sculpture, installed as an “amenity” to bump the rent up a hundred bucks a month. Ruthless, that’s what you are.
TOASTER OVENS (http://eggroll.diaryland.com/eggrolls.html)
Angry, angry toaster oven. Not a toaster, not an oven. Rather than dedicate your hostility toward overthrowing the government — as you tend to want to do when Pluto takes an orbital breather — place your cheap tin rack in the bottom position, set your toast-color selector to something beige or tan, and make us some nice hot sandwiches. Well-marbled chunks of Stilton melted over Roma tomato slices and onto mustard-slathered slabs of Trader Joe’s whole-wheat poppy-seed bread. (Just an idea.) And when you’re done, everyone will love you and let you sit on the countertop with the real appliances.
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