Pork: A Cautionary Tale
So I don't want to alarm anyone, but I'm considering becoming a born again televangelist, but Jewish. Because God spoke to me very clearly recently and reminded me that the laws of kashrut (you know, only eat cud chewing animals with split hooves) exist for a reason and the reason is that my life will be a fucking hell if I don't obey.
And it makes sense. Read your Bible, people. I mean, it says "Thou shalt not kill" (What's with that typo in "shall", btw? You'd think they'd correct it before the Second Coming) and if you happen to kill someone, the police are going to show up and now you're in a heap of trouble. If you'd just followed the Bible, this wouldn't have happened.
Last week, as I was returning from a glamorous fashion event at Vivienne Tam's, papa called me. He had babysat my kids that night and he had alarming news. "I saw the leftover pork roast in your fridge," he said. "I wanted to take pork home, but I forgot. I'll come on Saturday to get pork. Your kids need more discipline. Good night."
I was still on a champagne-sponsored high, so I thought nothing of it. Pork, shmork.
Same with pork. It's right there, page whatever, but I had to take matters into my own hands. I made a pork loin.
Last week, as I was returning from a glamorous fashion event at Vivienne Tam's, papa called me. He had babysat my kids that night and he had alarming news. "I saw the leftover pork roast in your fridge," he said. "I wanted to take pork home, but I forgot. I'll come on Saturday to get pork. Your kids need more discipline. Good night."
I was still on a champagne-sponsored high, so I thought nothing of it. Pork, shmork.
The next morning, I woke up in a state of alarm. My father is going to drive to my apartment for leftover pork? Isn't that like a warning sign of insanity? Because mama and I work a few blocks from each other, I called her.
"Listen," I told her. "Papa wants the pork."
"What does he want with the pork?""I do not know what he wants with the pork, but with the pork he wants. I will bring it to your office."
It was now Mama's turn to become alarmed: "Do not bring the pork to my office. Just put it in the freezer, it'll keep."At that very moment, papa called me on the other line.
(Ok, I know that it seems very suspicious that papa called just as I was talking to mama, but that's because you understand absolutely nothing. First of all, my family calls each other nonstop all the time, so the chances of getting a call at the same time from each of my parents is high. Second of all, if I'm going to lie about anything on this blog, it's not going to be about something lameass like my parents calling me at the same time because (sub-a) it does not advance the story at all and (sub-b) it's so boring, who the hell cares? And third of all, you have some nerve accusing me of lying. If I had any energy at all, I'd be totally offended.)
So papa calls and says, "I'm not going to pick up the pork roast on Saturday, put it in the freezer and I'll get it next Wednesday."
By now I've had more conversations about the pork roast in the last 12 hours than anyone else, except some kind of a pork fetishist, and I don't want to have any more for a while. So of course I totally forget to put the pork in the freezer, because, hell0, that's something that I can next week, a day before he is supposed to come over.
So, Thursday passes and so does Friday, and I'm enjoying a pork-free life and on Saturday morning, I get up with plans to get bagels for breakfast and freeze the pork. The bagel acquisition goes well, as Husbandrinka is dispatched to pick them up and I go to commence the pork freezerization and see that it is missing. I am in full-fledged panic. Because either Husbandrinka ate the pork or the woman who cleans the refrigerator cleaned the refrigerator and threw out the pork.
I breathe into an emotional paper bag and quiz Husbandrinka, "Did you eat the pork?" And he says, "What pork?" Because in the last few days he's been spared any and all pork discussions, but that is about to change dramatically.
"The leftover pork in the fridge," I tell him, helpfully distinguishing it from the pork tartare in the conservatory.
"Why would I eat that pork? It's like two weeks old and rancid."
"Look," I go into speed talking mode. "Papa wanted that pork and I was supposed to freeze it for him but Lydia threw it out, so our official story is that you ate it, ok?"
I know that he thinks that we are all out of our minds, just like the time he found a pot of mashed potatoes under his pillow because my mother put it there one day to keep it warm. The mashed potatoes, not the pillow. How was she supposed to know that he'd want to take a nap that afternoon?
"Why does your father want the rancid pork?"
"I don't know. I don't think it's rancid."
"Why do I have to say that I ate it?"
"Because otherwise he'll know that I didn't put it in the freezer and it got thrown out and I don't want to ring the alarm or anything, but he seems a little obsessed with it. Just play along, ok?"
"Fine. Whatever."
"So, how was it?" I test him.
"How was what?"
"THE PORK?"
"Rancid."
"No, say 'a little tough but pretty good'. That'll sound natural."
"This isn't normal behavior," he says.
"Ok, then just say 'fine'."
"Fine."
"Why did you eat my pork? I am speaking as papa now, you understand."
"Your father will not ask me that."
"We must go over all scenarios."
You see what I'm working with here? I don't understand how I could have married someone who is such a lousy liar/is unwilling to reherse in order to make the lies sound more natural. What kind of person doesn't want that kind of personal growth?
So I did what any normal person would do. I made another pork roast. And tonight, I will be freezing the leftovers.
Thank goodness that sanity has prevailed.
I breathe into an emotional paper bag and quiz Husbandrinka, "Did you eat the pork?" And he says, "What pork?" Because in the last few days he's been spared any and all pork discussions, but that is about to change dramatically.
"The leftover pork in the fridge," I tell him, helpfully distinguishing it from the pork tartare in the conservatory.
"Why would I eat that pork? It's like two weeks old and rancid."
"Look," I go into speed talking mode. "Papa wanted that pork and I was supposed to freeze it for him but Lydia threw it out, so our official story is that you ate it, ok?"
I know that he thinks that we are all out of our minds, just like the time he found a pot of mashed potatoes under his pillow because my mother put it there one day to keep it warm. The mashed potatoes, not the pillow. How was she supposed to know that he'd want to take a nap that afternoon?
"Why does your father want the rancid pork?"
"I don't know. I don't think it's rancid."
"Why do I have to say that I ate it?"
"Because otherwise he'll know that I didn't put it in the freezer and it got thrown out and I don't want to ring the alarm or anything, but he seems a little obsessed with it. Just play along, ok?"
"Fine. Whatever."
"So, how was it?" I test him.
"How was what?"
"THE PORK?"
"Rancid."
"No, say 'a little tough but pretty good'. That'll sound natural."
"This isn't normal behavior," he says.
"Ok, then just say 'fine'."
"Fine."
"Why did you eat my pork? I am speaking as papa now, you understand."
"Your father will not ask me that."
"We must go over all scenarios."
You see what I'm working with here? I don't understand how I could have married someone who is such a lousy liar/is unwilling to reherse in order to make the lies sound more natural. What kind of person doesn't want that kind of personal growth?
So I did what any normal person would do. I made another pork roast. And tonight, I will be freezing the leftovers.
Thank goodness that sanity has prevailed.
Labels: Fun with mama and papa
49 Comments:
First? No frikkin way...
Wow, I was for real. And I even read the post first.
I am glad you just made new pork anyway. He probably would have gotten sick from the other one and then he would have been in the hospital and it would have been all your fault and then you would REALLY go crazy.
Not that you're a little crazy now or anything...
Whoa. I thought I was on a blog-rant today.
This is effing amazing on so many levels I can't even begin.
LMAO!
Whoa. I thought I was on a blog-rant today.
This is effing amazing on so many levels I can't even begin.
LMAO!
I thought that your mom would take the whole "pork" thing the wrong way. Boy, was I wrong.
I never thought you were lying. Not for a minute.
Have you ever read Tender at the Bone by Rachel Reichl? Her mama would have totally made the papa eat the rancid pork, he would have liked it, and declared it delicious.
What a good daughter to make more left over pork roast for your papa! Be sure to put it in the same container, lest he become suspicious.
I'm so glad I have you to remind me that I DID in fact marry someone who is willing to rehearse lies with me.
Now I need to know how it is you have someone who cleans out your fridge. I have someone who cleans around it, but doesn't open it and throw away the moldy stuff. I need that.
Christ, am I gonna have to give him a seminar? Cause you KNOW I will......
I must have issues 'cos when I saw the word "pork" I thought of something naughty. ;)
You are a sweetums for making him a fresh one. And kick Husbandrinka for me! He must rehearse lying at all times!
Good thing all we eat over here is pasta and cheese. No pressure to share or to freeze!
The flesh of the pig will do it every time. *shakes head*
1) I don't understand how so many people commented already, what are they doing, just hanging around?! *cough* *cough*
2) Thought it was about time you posted, bit late today? Actually, given the swinedrama going on it isn't too surprising!
3) Pork, shmork. You win the funniest post of the week award. In fact, I'm making it up and giving it to you now.
4) The idea of your family ringing each other constantly about pork cracks me up, it really does, wow. I would ring other family members up to chat about bacon, but I doubt they would appreciate it.
5) I'm supposed to be filling in a tax credit form while the wife is out, not frittering my time away on blogs, so, that'll be my last point.
Yup. been there, done that. Too many times...
I love me some pork. ;)
Okay, now I am concerned that it is too soon in our bloggy friendship for me to mock your tweets. So I take it back. And I NEVER use phrases like "I love me some." Ever.
That was great..I love your blog.
The 2009 Pork Crisis. This was riveting.
but with the pork we wants... Marinka. This is the hardest I have laughed. Ever. In the history of reading your blog. I realize of course, that its all down hill from here, but let's enjoy this moment of BRILLIANCE. This whole post was trayf-fantastique.
I swear we are related.
Did you ever find out what happened to the rancid pork? Now I'll never be able to sleep.
Seriously laughing my ass off over here. I was raised thinking pork was for sinners!
But, WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO THE PORK ROAST??? Are we sure Lydia pitched the pork???
Who is this Lydia character, and can you send her to my house please? That would be very helpful... ;)
Very very funny! I'd have made a new pork too. Can't have papa mad at you!
I really wish you lived in Toronto.
Mashed potatoes under the pillow? Is it an electric pillow?
Of course you did! Thank goodness we can come up with a plan B at any time - of course you wouldn't need to do that if your husband could just stick to "I ate the pork, I'm sorry". Seriously. Do we have to do everything?
Of course having a lousy liar as a husband may not be entirely bad ;-)
Let us know how the second pork roast turns out!
Holy crap, the other white meat is really causing you some stress!
It's a schande that you and Nikki don't have your own reality shows!
In our house, "pork" means something else entirely.
I meant "and BEANS!" Pork and beans! Instead of pork roast!
Geez, clean it up, will ya?
:^) Anna
Yea!! Papa gets fresh pork! How nice for him.
It's clear what happened to the pork. No need to drag poor Husbandrinka into this.
It was Nicky who ate the pork.
Nicky is a very clever cat and one of her many talents is opening the deep freeze.
Man, I can't believe you didn't think of that one yourself.
That's exactly why the Talmud forbids pork. Duh.
xoxo, SG
LMAO!! I may have a bit of left over pork roast in the fridge I can throw in the freezer if you need it someday in near future! Obviously your dad is damn serious about his pork! Lisa
I'm sorry mashed potatoes under the pillow! Please don't tell me your husband has dandruff - eeeewwwww! Can you imagine?
I love the fact that you go over all the scenarios with Husbandrinka.
OMG I love your family! Too funny!
Husbandrinka is mega lame! I can lie with the best of them girl, I'm talking George Costanza shit baby.
Art Vandelay!!
But why did papa want the pork? Was he going to make a burnt offering to save your soul?
Hope the pork turned out well in the end.
Stuff like this is why I live a thousand miles form my family.
That was hysterical. It made my day. I was waiting to see how long it would take to just make another pork roast.
Who'd a thunk pork could make such a big deal? I had to go back and read it again...I thought I missed something;)
Hysterical. I always practice all the scenarios with my husband too.
What did your father say? He should comment on your blog. Or not. My father comments in his native language and always leaves three paragraphs worth of suggestions, corrections, and his insights. Heh.
Have I missed something here? Are you not Jewish? You know - Jewish and pork - not a match made in heaven. Yes I said that on purpose!
This is the funniest blog post I've read in, like, a month.
your mother put mashed potatoes under a pillow? that is great, i love her. can she come live with me?
Um. This is totally weird...my family is the same way. We have to lie to my dad about eating/using/whatever with stuff other than throwing it away. I could totally be related to you. Of course, my father's mother was Polish/German so maybe that's close enough to Russian to make this all make sense.
Don't tell the Poles I said that.
OMG.. my stomache muscles (I didn't even know I had any anymore?) hurt from laughing!
I was actually yelling, out loud, to the computer, "MAKE ANOTHER PORK ROAST!!!!!!"
I am so glad you heard me :o)
Oh my word this was some funnnnnnny stuff, my bloggy friend. Did you ever find out what he wanted with the pork in the first place??
oh my ... i just snorted really loud.. that was so funny!!!
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