Big Blogger 2 Cyberhouse Kitchen
Because I am used to cooking for mass quanities of children, I have thought long and hard about this kitchen remodel. While there are no children in the Cyberhouse, there are
When you walk in the doors on your right you will notice a row of hooks. On these hooks you will not see traditional chef attire - aka funny tall hat and cheffy looking coat thing - but tie-dyed, oversized t-shirts and do'rags. The tie-dyed shirts will mask and camouflage any spills, drips, dribbles and splatters and there will be various colors available. If you're making spaghetti, go with the orange and red shirt. Blueberry pie? We have a blue and purple version just for that. Plus they're retro chic and very comfy. And the do'rags aren't just for keeping hair out of the food (gag), but they also make us all look dannnnnnnng cool. And pirate-y. Yarr.
The counter tops are all height-adjustable so you can be comfortable while you slice, dice, pour, store, drain and strain. Cutting boards are built in, so you don't have to search and search through the cookie sheets and cooling racks. Just tap the correct button on the console in the center of each counter and voila' - your cutting board is waiting before you.
Also, featured on the console is a button for antibacterial hand sanitizer. No one really wants Sal-mon-illa, do they? Just push the button and you are offered a handy institutional-size pump bottle of germ-killing nectar of the obsessive/compulsive gods. And if you've been chopping up hunks of meat from Cut-Up Cow, you can push another button to sanitize the counter tops as well. I mean, the Cut-Up Cow is going to keep all of the beef fresh and disease-free, but what about Van Turkeys? Huh? What about them, indeed?
The console also has buttons for music, which is something every pirate-y chef needs in order to be efficient in the kitchen. Too many cooks in the kitchen and none want to listen to the same music? Headphones and earbuds are hanging just below the tie-dyed shirts at the door.
The Cyberhouse will also come equipped with a Cabana Boy named Carlos. Why does the kitchen need a Cabana Boy named Carlos? Because I said so, that's why.
There are no toilets in the kitchen, no matter what Hilbilly Mom wants. I just can't allow it. Yes, yes I realize that Cazzie's Cool Cleaner is a very effective cleaner indeed, but I'm drawing the line at potties in the pantry. Or anywhere near the pantry. There is a dinette set, a lounge (so the Cabana Boy can feed you grapes) and a formal dining table. Take your pick from those and if you don't like them, well, then you can go to the loo to eat.
Is anyone else fed up with someone using all but the last shred of paper towels on the roll and not putting a new roll on the hanger? And if they took the energy to get a new roll, they just left it sitting on the counter top? Well, that won't happen in the Cyberhouse Kitchen. No, the paper towels are neverending. Just like the toilet paper in the loo. And the pasta bowls at Olive Garden.
Also, all of the cans have labels that are the same front and back. This way, I don't spend my days turning all the labels facing out. And of course, the storage containers and canisters are made by FittyStore, the company that makes FittyMaid Brand Storage Containers.
But the most amazing features of the Cyberhouse Kitchen is the self-cleaning feature. At day's end, when all of the cooking, slicing, dicing, grape-eating and frollicking is done and you're ready to retire to the Hillmomba Slumber Cavern, you just shut the doors and push the button. When you arrive back in the kitchen the next morning, the kitchen is sparkly clean and ready for another day. But beware - the self-cleaning cycle is pretty much like that of a self-cleaning oven. If you hide in the kitchen to play footsie-wootsies or handsy-wandsies with the cabana boy a little longer, chances are you and Carlos are going to be crispy critters by morning.
The rest of the Krusty Krew:
Perspectives of a Nomad
I Don't Do Mornings!
Legless in Perpetuum
Scotland of the Soul