The Boy and His Beans

Very few things in life cause me trauma anymore, I credit this to my mature attitude toward life and the fact that I really don't have a life.

"No, th-this time I want the pepperoni under the cheese..yeah."

However, a few weeks ago I did have an incredibly stressful event that caused me all sort of problems that I've decided to tell my readers. Because through my mistakes, I hope to educate my readers on the finer points of life. Which is what this blog has been about since the very beginning.

"What is this he's talking about here?...a..potty...putter."

So without further ado I give you a story about a boy and his adventure with beans. Please enjoy (Note to self: "The Boy and His Beans" would be a killer band name)

The more astute readers of my blog will recognize me as a very thrifty individual. I always enjoy honing my survival skills and a few weeks ago was no different. It all started when I was rifling through my corner cabinet in my apartment in hot pursuit of what we Americans kindly refer to as "grub." Because of a severe lack of gumption and cash flow the recent week, I had munched through the last of my food supply. I had even burned through my rations of fruit leather and beef jerky my mother had given me for my birthday. Yeah, you heard that right, my mom gives me food storage for my birthdays. 

"At ease ladies"

So the cupboard was bare except nestled on the top in the very back my hand fell upon a bag that felt lumpy. I unearthed the bag from the dust and old pieces of uncooked spaghetti that populated my cupboard and pulled it out into view. It was a bag of black beans.

"Beans, beans, the magi-SHUT UP!"

Normally, I would wretch and throw the bag across the room in a symbol of distaste toward anything healthy. But, my diet for the past week had been jerky crumbs and unsweetened dried fruit pulp. So I reluctantly turned the bag over and started reading the directions for cooking. I did a double take when I did some highly complicated math (in my head) and realized that the prep time for dried beans is an absolutely ridiculous amount of time. So much time that it occurred to me that I would probably be making these beans for my unborn offspring.

"Your father really wanted you to enjoy those beans, son"

Seriously, who actually still has the time to make beans? As if someone would really say, "You know what I'm going to be craving tomorrow?.....beans probably, so better get to making them.

Around this time my roommate walked into the kitchen and took a genuine interest in what I was doing. He saw me reading the bag and immediately went to his cupboard and pulled out a can of black beans. He tapped the lid and said, "I'm just going to leave these here." I glanced at the can on the table and realized this was probably the best option because it would require about .000001% of the prep time. But, at this point it was too late quitting now would show a lack of character.

"Curse this pride of mine!!"

So I poured a vague amount of water into a bowl and then poured the beans in to allow them to soften up over the next few hours.

It was a Wednesday afternoon I was at school having a wonderful day when I received a text from my roommate...it was about the beans. he said, "Your beans are beginning to rot." My mind instantly returned to the beans I had forgotten about. I brushed it off and made a mental note to throw them out. I returned home from school to get ready for work. When I got there I stirred the rotty bean water and took note of the fact that despite they had been soaking for three days...they were still hard. Because, I was extremely lazy I decided to just throw them down the sink instead of walking all the way to the trash. So I took the pot of beans and poured the entire contents down the sink then turned on the disposal. As the disposal ran I started cleaning the pot of its moldy residue...because safety.

#safetyisalwayssexy

It was about at this moment that I began noticing the disposal making a strange sound as tiny pieces of beans started shooting over the entire kitchen. I hurried and turned the disposal off and stuck my hand down the sink (do not do this at home). I felt a large amount of moldy bean excess populating the disposal area and made a quick diagnosis that I had clogged the sink. For the next 30 minutes I stood with my shirt sleeves rolled up as I fished, plunged, and grasped beans out of the sink. Every few minutes I would try turning on the disposal which only served to shoot more beans around the kitchen. I was late too work so I quickly went to my roommates room and told him everything was cool basically...

It wasn't but I didn't need anyone poking their head around. So I did a quick, shoddy clean up job and headed to work. At work I sat and wondered how I was going to fix the problem and stressed over the possibility of having to call a plumber to fix our sink. A billion thoughts ran through my head as I wondered what would happen. Would it cost a lot of money? Had I done irreparable damage? Is that cute girl looking at me? 

"Nah I ain't married..sup?"

After work I rushed home again and began trying to fix the problem, I tried everything I could but this job called for some mean chemical agents. So I got in my car and sped down to the local store in the pouring rain. When I got there I picked out what looked like the strongest agent of Drain-O and headed back home where I proceeded to pour the entire bottle down the drain. The bottle said to wait for 30 minutes so I sat and waited. After 30 minutes were up I went to the sink again and looked in. I turned on the disposal and all that happened was Drain-O and partially torn up beans were shot around the sink. So at that point I decided to call it a night and just left the sink Drain-O and beans caked all over the sides as I went to bed. That night I came close to a panic attack from all the stress dreams I felt over a sink full of beans.

GAH!!

 I vividly imagined a plumber berating me for my stupidity. The next morning I went out and the situation had not improved at all I tried a few tactics but to no avail. So I went to my classes and planned to call a plumber later in the day. When I returned I decided to give the beans one last shot so I went to the bathroom got the plunger stuck it over the drain and began plunging away for a solid 5 minutes. Suddenly, I could hear air coming out of the other side of the sink so I plunged away harder and harder until finally the sink gave a low moan as the beans had been removed from her bowels and sent to the horrible hell from whence they came. 

Moral of the story: Don't ever make beans.