How I Beat My Kitchen Supplies

I am not on drugs. Let me just clear that up right now. Of course, someone who reads this and doesn't know me might very seriously doubt that very simple and very true statement. See? Now you're intrigued and want to read on, for you're convinced that what I am about to tell you must be interesting. Well, it might be if YOU are on drugs, but if not, I'd say prepare to be disappointed, unless you are fascinated by the incredibly random thoughts and musings of a bored 19-year-old who likes run-on sentences.
Today, I was supposed to empty the dishwasher, so no one was very surprised when I didn't. However, during my nightly ritual of watching random television, playing on my laptop, and snacking on goldfish and Cheetos, I decided that I would like a glass of milk. I went to the cupboard to grab a glass and was dismayed to discover that all the glasses were in the dishwasher. The dishes were clean, however, and had I not been the stereotypical lazy college student, I probably would have put them away, but that is neither here nor there.
I ended up doing what anyone in my situation would have done. I opened the dishwasher and grabbed a clean glass. This simple action got me thinking about how the glass would have felt if it had not been, you know, an inanimate object. Would this glass have been thrilled at having been chosen straight out of the dishwasher? At having been used so recently and then needed again, immediately after its obligatory rest period? Would it laugh at the other glasses that didn't get chosen and would they be jealous of it? Of the one glass that I picked to quench my thirst?
Of course, there was always the other possibility, that glasses don't actually like being used, and by choosing that one glass fresh out of the dishwasher, I had actually infuriated it beyond all belief, like a worker called in for a double shift on what was promised to be his day off. These two distinct possibilities troubled me greatly as I wondered if I was offending the glass or gratifying it.
While I contemplated these thoughts, I opened the fridge and saw an unopened gallon of 1% Lucerne milk. Excellent. I was concerned that we may have been out of milk and I would have had to settle for water. But just as I was peeling off the seal on the plastic pitcher, I began to wonder again. How did the milk feel about this? Because dairy expires rather quickly, it obviously has a relatively short time on this earth, but how did it feel about the time given to it? It must have known, as it felt me removing its lid, that its time was nearing an end. Just like the cow from which it had come, it was about to sacrifice itself so that a human could gain some kind of culinary enjoyment. Now, obviously this milk was created specifically to provide nourishment, so it is likely that it was elated at finally being having the opportunity to fulfill its purpose in life. However, because all things fear death, it is also possible it became terrified at the prospect of consumption as it sensed me picking away the seal on the lid.
In uncertainty, I continued on. Into a freshly cleaned glass, I poured myself a cup of brand new milk, all the time unsure of how my companions in this quest for thirst-quenching felt about the journey upon which we were embarking. I didn't have to wonder much longer.
As I brought the clean glass of fresh milk to my lips and took my first drink, the answer to my query was finally revealed, in the form of an assault on my taste buds. The damn milk tasted awful! It was far too watery, and despite being in the refrigerator for at least four hours, it was nowhere near cold enough to satisfy my expectations. The milk and the glass had obviously conspired in a vile attempt to spite me. It was mutiny! My two companions on this journey were unsatisfied with their conditions after all!
Now, I'm a compassionate person. I like to think that if I'm unintentionally wronging someone, under certain conditions I will correct the offense. But this was crossing the line. I had counted on this milk and this glass to provide me with a satisfying drinking experience and they had betrayed me for personal reasons, completely unrelated to business. It was unprofessionalism in it's most definitive form. Such a blatant assault obviously deserved no compassion from me whatsoever. I immediately had a nearly overpowering urge to smash the glass of milk against the wall, thereby eliminating both my opponents in one deft move. As I was winding up, however, I gave pause. If I allowed my rage to get the better of me in this battle, I would be handing victory to my opponents on a silver platter. If, on the other hand, I took the high road and remained calm, I could emerge as the better entity and therefore triumph.
I began to think, to plan. It was obvious that this milk did not want to be drank, and this glass did not want to be soiled. How could I use this knowledge to help me win in this showdown? After a moment of staring intensely at the two evil bastards in my hand, I came upon the ultimate solution. It was perfect, elegant in its simplicity and shocking in its deviousness.
Grabbing a shovel from the shed and laughing gleefully at my own brilliance, I hopped into my car and began to drive, with the glass of milk in a cup holder. Luckily for me, I live in a rural community and the nearest herd of cows is not far away. So, Milk, you don't want to be consumed eh? And Glass, you want to stay clean? Well we'll see about that.
I soon came to a fence. I got out of my car, shovel in hand, climbed into the field that I knew was home to no fewer than twenty cattle and set to work. I began digging and, as I worked, I again congratulated myself on the sheer brilliance of my plan. When I had dug a hole to my satisfaction, I retrieved the glass of milk from the car and delivered the final blow. I scattered the milk along the ground around the hole. So, this milk didn't want to be consumed? Well I would see to it that not only would it be consumed, but it would provide nourishment to cows who would go on producing milk meant for human consumption. A double-insult! I then filled the glass up with dirt, dropped in right into the hole that I had dug, and buried it, thereby ensuring that it would remain dirty for eternity.
And just like that, I had triumphed. I kept a cool head in the face of a direct assault and emerged as the victor. Not only that, but I had taught a lesson to all the milk and glasses in my house. I was not to be messed around with.
Now I reign supreme over my kitchen...What's that Mom? No, I haven't emptied the dishwasher yet, I've been asserting my power as king of the...no Mom, I haven't been wasting time, I swear...don't call me lazy! What? No more TV? Aww come on! OK, OK, fine! I'm going, I'm going! I'll empty the dishwasher!