Up for consideration: Public Enemy #1 (Sydney Edition)
The Candidates: The Washing Machine, The Oven, The Self-Proclaimed #1 Outlaw Protester
Candidate #1: The Washing Machine
Don’t let this so-called “energy efficient” con-man fool you. He says he’s energy efficient, yet the SHORTEST wash-cycle he’s got is “60” minutes! I put 60 in quotations because I was observing the washing machine yesterday and noticed the time went from 13 minutes left (okay cool I’ll just hang around and wait for the cycle to finish) to 12, 11, 10, 9, 19. I’m pretty sure those 13 minutes lasted well over a half hour.
The other down-side to having an hour-long wash cycle, is that having found some other task to kill that time, I inevitably forget about the wash and am left with the sweet smell of clothing left in the washing machine over night.
That’s 1:00 as in 60 minutes
As if being a time-suck wasn’t enough, this crook has a way of spinning a tightly knit web. And by web, I mean web of my clothing! Good luck getting your clothing out in one piece – I swear one day I’m going to accidentally rip an arm off of one of my shirts trying to pry it from the massive tangle of twisted up clothing, the result of one of the washing machine’s vicious cycles. If my clothing were a knot, it would be one of those knots that you eventually give up on and out of frustration you just cut it off – except it’s my clothes, so I can’t just use scissors to solve my problem. As you gently tug at a stuck article of clothing, hoping to easily free it from it’s spindly captor, you hear the slight stretchy tear sound and immediately let go, hoping to spare your sleeve any further stress, and start gently pulling at another article of clothing.
Candidate #2: The Oven
This seductive criminal promises a warm meal and the wafting scent of cookies as it bakes. What it delivers is an all-over hot cooktop (anything metal touching the oven while it’s on becomes a beacon of heat itself) and the luscious smell of gas filling the air for almost a half hour before it actually heats up. Mmmmm nothing says home-cooking is happening here like the pungent smell of carbon monoxide.
Once this ruthless killer decides he’s done poisoning the air you’re attempting not to breathe, he keeps you guessing as to his actual temperature: set him to 400 degrees, and watch his in-oven thermometer range from 350-450 at any given time.
And don’t think that we can actually store anything in that drawer below the oven, although that is his broiler, broiling or not – it becomes a fiery inferno, making any pans (or griddle) stored under there into a searing weapon, ready to do his bidding.
Candidate #3: The Self-Proclaimed #1 Outlaw Protester
I’ve been doing the Chicago commute for several years now, and this man has been around, wearing the same shirt, in one of two locations, for as long as I’ve been commuting. Although his sign has gotten bigger this past week (probably in honor of all of his brethren protesters coming to town), his message remains the same. His sign tells you how long he’s been on a hunger strike and his shirt tells you that he’s “#1 Outlaw FBI No Child Visitation since ’06”. And recently he’s added a whistle to his routine, deeming himself a whistle-blower (of what, I’m not quite sure – probably to just be obnoxious).
First off, let’s address the hunger strike, if he were really striking from food, he’d have perished a while ago. Also, it always has that day listed as the day he’s been striking since – so does he just eat at night?
Secondly, his shirt & sign makes no sense. Who is he blowing a whistle on and does the FBI really know that this man exists? Your first instinct is to feel bad about the no child visitation, but when I think about it (it’s been 4+ years that I’ve been observing this man), do you really want someone who strikes from food, wears the same shirt every day and spends his whole day standing in one spot around kids? There are times where I just want to take him aside and explain to him that if he had a more healthy-outlet of his frustration, ate something, and had a job incorporated into his daily routine that he might be able to secure child visitation.
So there you have it folks. The candidate’s for Sydney’s Public Enemies. It’s a toss up between the washing machine and the oven: one causes me significantly more anger and frustration, but the other could actually kill me. I included our friend the protester on the list because his shirt proclaims that he should be on my list, and I happened to have snapped a photo of him the other day.