About two years ago, a good friend (one of the Usual Suspects) told me that, as a result of an “online shopping accident” (She was new to online shopping then), she ended up ordering two of those high-powered, infomercial juicers. She asked whether I might be interested in buying one of them, thereby saving her the hassle of returning the extra juicer. (Take it on faith that, given the nature of the “online shopping accident,” returning one of the juicers would have been a hassle.)
Being the gott-damned Prince that I am, I agreed to pony up and take one of the juicers off her hands. At first, I wasn’t terribly interested in owning a juicer, but I was happy about the opportunity to have performed a mitzvah (Did I use the term correctly, Elisson?)
However, in anticipation of its delivery, I began to think that owning one of those infomercial juicers might be a good thing. After all, that bushy-eyebrowed guy on the infomercial for his juicer is probably 105 years old, and he looks damned good from drinking all that freshly extracted juice. Hell, then there’s Jack La Lanne, the other infomercial Juice Guy, who is probably in his nineties. The last I saw him, he was dragging a freight train or some such thing with his bare hands (Maybe he was dragging it with his sharona; I can’t recall).
Dammit World, Jimbo’s ready to JUICE!
Anyway, when Da Juicer finally arrived, I went out and bought a nice, ripe pineapple. I was eager to make some fresh, wholesome, full-of-nutrients pineapple juice. Indeed, I figured that I was only scant moments away from a Taste of the Islands (Cue the ukulele). I was ready to toss that pineapple into the juicer and watch juice rush like a raging river out the bottom thingy.
Then I took a look at the instructions.
Turns out that, before Da Juicer would spew Aloha Juice I would have to peel, core, and slice the pineapple into fairly small pieces before it could be dropped into the machine and turned into juice. OK, so I spent ten minutes peeling, coring, and slicing the pineapple, but, more than ever, I was ready to create the delicious life-extendingr elixir. I was poised with my large glass for drinking and a container for storing some juice for later.
After about four or five minutes of the sound and fury that results from feeding pineapple chunks into the machine, I ended up with about 2/3 of a glass of juice. Hell, I was ready to really do some serious juice drinking – like a couple 16-ouncers. (Flashback to the infomercial — They always catch the juice in a little piss-ass glass! What was I thinking?)
Turns out that in order to make all the juice I wanted, I would need a crate of pineapples, plus I would have to be prepared for 45 minutes of peeling, coring, and slicing and anther ten minutes of sound and fury “juicing” time.
After washing down the juice with one gulp, it was time to begin the “easy cleanup” that was promised in the infomercial. Let me just say that I would have preferred to clean all the rifles in an infantry squad.
Let’s summarize, so far, shall we?
1. Did I mention that the instructions recommend that Da Juicer not be used with oranges or tomatoes. What?? You gotta be nuts! No oranges or tomatoes? Does anyone really buy these things to make lima bean juice?
2. If you would like to make a sufficient amount of juice for a family of – I don’t know — more than one, consider buying a pickup truck to haul the necessary-produce.
3. The “Easy-to-Clean” stuff is 100% prime, certified bullshit.
Anyway, as a result of my experience with the maiden voyage of Da Juicer, it has been languishing in its original box in my basement for more than two years, while I buy Tropicana orange juice with lots of pulp (Up yours, Bushy-Eyebrow Guy!) and Dole pineapple juice.
I’ve decided that, rather than let Da Juicer sit in my basement collecting dust, I would think of Ten Things I could do with the damned thing, other than making juice, and here’s the List:
Ten Things One Can Do with a Juicer, Other than Making Juice.
1. Lawn ornament.
2. Paper weight.
3. Door stop.
4. Donation to a time capsule project dedicated to stupid shit from the 90’s.
5. Rifle target.
6. Token for use in a really, really big Monopoly Game.
7. A thing that can be dressed up to look like R2D2.
8. Airplane sound effects generator.
9. Consolation prize for the sorry ass who comes in third on Jeopardy.
10. In the spirit of the Stanley Cup, a trophy that is awarded annually to the Douchebag of the Year.
FOR SALE: One Useless Piece of Crap. Cheap.