erin judge writes this

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I'm Erin Judge. I'm a comedian and a writer. I live in Los Angeles. Let's hug.

February 9, 2015

smart trash

I'm at my mother's house this week helping her out after joint replacement surgery. This is because I am a good, good daughter. My reward so far has been repeated incidents of sit-com-style humiliation.

Yesterday my mother's Prius locked me out WHILE IT WAS ON because I failed to open the trunk correctly too many times in a row. Oh, and my mother always keeps her headlights on, so the lights were blazing too. FUN! I tried using the spare SmartKey (SO smart, that key) and pressing buttons in an up-down-up-down-yadda-yadda-select-start manner in an effort to cajole it into believing that I was, in fact, an authorized driver. No dice. The battery withered and died just as my friend finally figured out how to pop the manual key out of the SmartKey. The Prius's owner, who may or may not be on several different flavors of pain medication, claimed no prior knowledge of said manual key.

FUNNY STORY: the battery of a Prius cannot be accessed directly if it is dead, because a charge is required to open the trunk, and THAT is where the battery is! ELL OHH ELL! Me and the guy from AAA had to crawl in through the backseat! WHAT A RIOT! See, you can open the hood when the battery has no charge, but the joke's on you, dumb human, because the battery doesn't live under the hood!  Fooled YOU!

This morning, Mom asked me to make her some oatmeal, not on the stove, but rather in her rice cooker, and I went to college, so I proceeded to pour all the ingredients directly into the base of the machine, instead of into the special bowl insert part where they're supposed to go, which was in the dishwasher. I found this out because when I pressed the 'COOKING' button, which means 'START' or 'ON' in this case, the rice cooker only played a fraction of its normal "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" introduction before displaying the error message "HO4." I engaged in five seconds of pre-caffeine troubleshooting before I realized my mistake. Wah-WAH! HILARIOUS, right?!

As I struggled to clean steel-cut oats and soy milk out of the nooks and crannies of Japanese electronics, Mom's automatic trash can lid sure did keep me guessing! It popped right open every time I brushed past it or ducked underneath it, but when I walked up to it with a fistful of scraped-up organic oat mush, it remained static and shut, the coy thing! What a tease you are, automatic trash can!

After I fixed the rice cooker and made breakfast and called AAA and climbed through the backseat to the trunk and jumped the car and drove around for an hour and cleaned up the kitchen, I realized the floor was a mess. I asked Mom for a broom.

"Oooh, I have an ELECTRIC broom!" she offered with delight, and I was like
"ANALOG BROOM NOW."

In closing, I'd like to thank this amazing piece of technology for making my life so much easier: