Friday, June 11, 2010

My Problem With Milk

My family drinks a lot of milk. At any given time, there is at least one and a half gallons of milk in my parent's refrigerator. We drank milk at every meal, whether that shit was fillet mignon or McDonald's. I would come home from soccer practice and chug milk like it was water. Gross.

When I was 18 and moved out, my milk drinking habit got kicked real quick, once I realized that milk costs money and water is free, so it's rare that I purchase milk at all. I also rarely cook, but about every two weeks, I decide it's good and time for some Kraft mac n cheese, so I stroll to the bodega and pick up a half carton (pint? I understand little about liquid measurements) and then get home and realize I only need like 1/4 of a cup to make the whole box. Then I'm all what the eff am I gonna do with the rest of this milk, I won't remember to drink it but I feel bad pouring it out because that's just wasteful and next thing I know a month has gone by and it's not so much milk anymore as cottage cheese. And that is my problem with milk; what to do with it at that half liquid/half solid state. Dumping it down the drain is out, because that will smell so bad it will probably make me barf and I can't throw it in the trash, for fear of the bag breaking all over my kitchen floor or in my hallway, too horrifying to think about. So the milk kind of lives indefinitely in this fridge limbo.

Last night Andrew was over and while getting a beer out of my fridge, noted the four or so cartons of milk chilling out in there. He pulled one out, with an expiration date of about two months ago and asked me why I had so much expired milk hanging around, which made me think of my milk  problem. Since this was a fairly new recruit, I told Andrew I'd give him $5 to take one gulp, which he turned down. Mind you I had just cooked him dinner and he was drinking my PBRs so you'd think at that point he owed me, right? Wrong, he said it would take TWO HUNDRED dollars to get him to take a sip! How did I end up with such bourgeois friends. Throw me a solid twenty; boom.

*UPDATE* Andrew's retaliation:
i am a high roller. i get paid. and when i'm not getting paid, i'm getting paid. understand? i've made money, and i was left money. i don't take any kind of sips of expired milk – i don't even think about or utter the words "expired milk" – for less than $1000. the $200 was an ENORMOUS friend discount. it was a sign or respect and gratitude for your hospitality. just to reiterate: i get paid. i'm worth buttloads. literally buttloads. do you think those little t-shirts with the holes come cheap? they absolutely do not. why do you think i'm napping all the time? because it's fucking exhausting thinking about how to manage my money, how to keep it safe and diversified, how to keep the vultures (read: jews and women) away from my money, and coming up with brilliant skeems to make more money, MORE MONEY, MORE MONEY.
that is who i am. 


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