April Winchell

What's in Your Refrigerator?

I think this received the most answers of any hidden question so far, though most of them were , "I don’t know, but it just moved". And that was pretty funny the first 2 or 3 hundred times, but then I just went back to watching war coverage and drinking.

Don't get me wrong. There were some very good replies this week, and I'm always delighted when you share personal information with me so I can smear it all over my web page and have a good laugh at your expense.

But is that really fair? Probably not. So let me start off this week by doing something a little different. Let me tell you what's in my refrigerator. And please notice that the Four Food Groups are well represented:

The Chemical Group:Coffeemate, Cool Whip, Daisy Non-Fat Sour Cream
The Withered Group: Iceberg lettuce, orange and yellow bell peppers
The Spoiled Group: Lactaid Non-Fat Milk (2/29), Orange Juice (3/15)
The Husband Group: One chicken tender from Gelson's, a tub of brown guacamole from Bristol Farms

Living well really is the best revenge.

Now, here's what's in your refrigerator:

Almost a case of empty beer bottles. I leave them in there because I only take the empties out at night when the neighbors can't see me.

Ted Williams' and Walt Disney's heads, book-ending my international collection of cold-cuts.

Mustard, olives, vodka, insulin, anal suppositories, under eye gel, lipstick, deodorant, Joan Crawford's ghost and the promise of a better tomorrow.

A half eaten roll of cookie dough and the reminder I am a very lonely man. Oh, and Baking Soda.

3 cans of cappucino Slimfast, Healthy Choice Turkey Bologna, two jars of applesauce, a half eaten gogurt tube and 1/2 gallon of milk. And something in a bowl that needs to be buried.

A big can of whoopass with Pat Sajak's name on it.

I recently unearthed a jar of pickles that, based on the expiration date, had to have been left over from our wedding reception 6 years ago. My husband got a case of the ass when I told him I had thrown the pickles away – he insisted they would still be good (of course, this was coming from a man who once ate month old taco meat and wondered why he got sick). He also pointed out that the pickles had been around longer than one of the dogs and both the cats and the chickens, and thus they were part of the family.

The polar bear cubs I smuggled out of Alaska in my pants.

Open the door of my fridge and if you look in the back . . . there is another door . . . open that door and you have made it to the LAAAAAAND of the LOOOOOOST! Sah, Taa, and Chaka are there waiting to give you a hearty handshake! But beware of the Sleestacks!

Just say that the neighbors think my wife has moved away.

Two cans of Schlitz fine malt liquor, something in the corner which I believe used to be marzipan, and a corn tortilla I caught at an Oingo Boingo concert in 1989.

A solid block of ice that used to be my freezer. There's a Ham 'n Cheddar Hot Pocket trapped in there!

Poppers, batteries, nail polish and mushrooms.

What used to be in my father-in-law's refrigerator? My mother in law.

Between her cremation and burial, he figured that, with all it's insulation, his refrigerator would offer his wife's ashes the best protection from a house fire. There she sat, on the top shelf, for several months.

One day, he came over to my house and confessed that he couldn't find her. He'd looked everywhere and she was just gone. Knowing she couldn’t have gone far, my wife followed him home and searched the house. Before long, she found her mother's box of ashes in the sweater drawer. We don't know, with certainty, how she got there. It was clear, however, that it was just too damn cold next to the milk carton.

Sprouts, though they weren't that when I put them in.

The cool kids from high school, and yes, they are double-wrapped. Why do you ask?

An unopened gallon of pepperocinis (circa 1994), a couple of caramel flavored Space Food Sticks, part of a white chocolate Easter Bunny (not mine, I assure you), a fresh pound of Head Cheese, a half finished percodan and Vodka martini and an open can of Spam (it tells me which Lotto numbers to pick, I CAN'T throw it away).

What else?

Nothing special. Milk, lettuce, frozen embryos, orange juice, Jayne Mansfield's head, stem cells, butter, ketchup, a few severed penises, eggs, catsup, Liza's old hip, cottage cheese . . . the usual.

Frozen chocolate covered bananas-on-a-stick from Trader Joe's for when my hemorrhoids act up.

"Healthy & Hearty" Tofu Steaks. I felt sorry for the demonstrator at Ralph's so in addition to sampling it, I actually bought it. For God's sake, when is this crap gonna expire so I can throw it out?! I don't mind Tofu on occasion but you're not fooling anybody by calling it a "steak!"

The little man who turns off the light.

God help me…. pork uterus. Honest, it's $1.98 a pound at the Filipino Market my wife frequents. I have no idea what they use it for and I love her too much to ask. By the way, I'll be doing all of the cooking in my house for the foreseeable future.

A case of Smirnoff Ice, four lemons and a bottle of liquid iron supplement.

Inside my fridge is a wonderland of many smaller refrigerators collectively known as "Fridgeville". Each has its own personality, like a Sid and Marty Kroft show. One day, a very wise Thermador observed, "When the big door in the sky opens, we are blessed with light, but the warm air rushes in and we cannot generate snow. How can we keep the light and enjoy our nude ski jump, frozen daiquiris, and jello shooters?" Alas, the little town of fridges never resolved this vexing problem. So remember kids, don't be fooled, for inside every fridge is a Hell frozen over. The End.

Jeffrey Dahmer’s leftovers.

The remains of a green bean casserole from a Thanksgiving potluck, and the leftover carcass of a Honey Baked Ham from a Christmas Potluck,

Chocolate and broccoli. A good balance. Comfort food and discomfort food.

Half a can of cat food and an empty bottle of wine. Strangely, there's a jar of mayonnaise in the wine rack.

Chicken Surprise Casserole. But there's no chicken in it. Surprise!!

My husband's penis in one of those "Don't get mad, get Glad" containers.

The severed head of Jason Voorhees' mother. That bitch had it coming.

Jello-brand pudding, chocolate. And LOTS of it!

Fuck all . . . and mayonnaise.