7 Reasons

Tag: peeling

  • Guest Post: 7 (+1) Reasons An Onion Doesn’t Make A Good House Pet

    Guest Post: 7 (+1) Reasons An Onion Doesn’t Make A Good House Pet

    In keeping with our traditions as a a self-help guide we are delighted to welcome Paisley Downing to the 7 Reasons sofa. For those of you wondering who Paisley is, let me tell you. Paisley enjoys writing comical articles about pets, politics, and cyber culture. She currently writes for Allied Satellite TV. It’ll come as no surprise to you then that today’s post is concerned with that troublesome matter of selecting a pet. Here’s Paisley (after the photo of an onion):

    7 Reasons An Onion Doesn’t Make A Good House Pet

    Selecting the right pet for your home can be a daunting process and, with so many choices, beginning with which pet not to choose could save you time and stress. Today, we’ll look at seven really good reasons you don’t want an onion for a house pet.

    1.  An Onion Reeks. An onion will necessarily have a powerful smell after peeling or slicing. While this makes it excellent at what it does, it contributes little to the family aspiring to adopt a new friend. An onion simply can’t stay wrapped in its comfy little peel forever. Sooner or later, the onion will have to come out. By then, the only options left include lighting a candle to ward off the fumes, or submerging the onion in iced water. Neither option is conducive to cuddling on the couch.

    2.  Too Many Layers. Of all the vegetables one could select as a family pet, the onion is known to be most complicated. Just when you think you’ve developed an easy rapport, whammo! Another shocking, perhaps even disturbing surprise from your thin skinned friend. The onion is simply beyond our comprehension, in a number of ways — and by the time many onion owners discover what that number is, the damage to the relationship has been done and there is no going back.

    3.  Fragility. Onions are not the hardiest of vegetables. Even when stored in optimal conditions, the best of the lot can quickly go bad, transforming your sleek-sheathed bulb baby into a furry friend. While it is true that the variety used for cooking can be stored for much longer periods of time at room temperature — as opposed to sweet onions that require refrigeration — even these are overly sensitive about being left alone, and prefer the company of other onions to yours.

    3.  Cost. Many people are initially attracted by the affordability of onions, but they fail to see the Big Picture; onions can cost pet owners more than they might believe in terms of personal relationships and health care. How many times has a young man let an onion come between him and that special girl? Or a guy come home from a tough day on the job, only to face the perils of indigestion after a too-close encounter with an onion during his lunch break?

    4.  Disloyalty. Unlike broccoli, the onion is likely to be disloyal to its owners should a more exciting person come along. Onions tend to wander off with anyone who will give them a moment’s attention, and if you disappeared never to be seen or heard from again, the onion would not care so long as someone else was there to feed, bathe, and play with it.

    5.  Jealousy. Let’s face it: onions need lots of attention and can be quite jealous. They’re jealous of you, your children, your pets, and your life. Even the most affectionate onion will eventually disappoint you with passive-aggression tactics such as rolling around in your pillowcase when you aren’t looking, leaving a slime trail on the bathroom floor for you to slip on, or throwing out your mail before you’ve had a chance to read it. If you decide to go onion, be prepared to coddle a delicate, high-maintenance temperament.

    6.  High Energy Levels. Unless you’re very young and active as a matter of course, you will likely find the onion’s energy levels to be too high. An onion is constantly on the move and loves chasing and being chased. This is not a pet for a person who expects a nice, quiet creature to nod hello to in the mornings and evenings and not have to deal with during the day.

    7.  They Hate Family Photos. Onions are notorious for their purposeful avoidance of the camera during family get-togethers. In fact, they are known to go so far out of their way to escape picture time that there have been reports of onions rolling away into the wilderness at high rates of speed, where they are unfortunately lost or preyed upon by wild animals. What better way to ruin a family reunion than the needless tragedy of losing a beloved pet in the chaos?

  • 7 Reasons That I’m Sick Of The Lemons

    7 Reasons That I’m Sick Of The Lemons

    On Monday, I started my bank holiday project: A batch of limoncello.  It’s a simple enough liqueur to make, requiring a couple of litres of vodka, some sugar and lemon zest.  A lot of lemon zest.  The zest of twenty-four lemons.  Here are seven reasons that I’m now sick of the lemons.

    A photo of several yellow whole rotator lemons.  And a leaf.

    1.  Peeling Them.  Ever peeled a lemon?  It’s the second dullest activity known to man (or woman).  You have to be careful not to get any of the pith with the zest, so it takes a long time.  I peeled twenty-four of the things. I have no idea exactly how long I was in the kitchen, but I do know that I had a ginger beard when I emerged from it.  I had one when I went in too, but I was definitely in there for a very long time.  Peeling lemons.

    2.  Poor Planning.  “Errrr. Ummm. Errrr.  Have a lemon, darling.”  That’s what I said when my wife – not unreasonably – enquired what I was going to do with twenty-four peeled lemons.  This is because, caught up in my enthusiasm for making the limoncello, I had forgotten that a by-product of lemon zest is lemons.  Lots of lemons.  I decided to put them in the fridge, certain that we would be able to use them.

    3.  Juice.  Our fridge was already quite full.  So full, in fact, that I had to remove several jars of jam, a bag of onions that pre-dated the internet, and all – except for two – bottles of beer, to fit the large, overflowing bowl of peeled lemons in.  Eventually, two days later, desperate to free up fridge space for more beer, I had a brainwave.  Lemon juice.  I would juice half of the lemons.  This would free up space in the fridge and enable me to put beer in there.  Ever juiced twelve lemons?  It’s the dullest activity known to man (or woman).  After what seemed like a fortnight of squeezing lemons, I put the (surprisingly still quite full) bowl – now containing half the original number of lemons – back into the fridge.  Then I had to remove the remaining bottles of beer in order to make room for the two bottles of lemon juice.  Brilliant.

    4.  Drinks.  As there was now no cold beer in the house, and many, many lemons, I decided to have a cocktail week.  The things that I have drunk at home in cocktail week have included: lemon drop martinis, gin fizzes, whisky sours and tom collinseseseses.  Hic.  All of these cocktails contain lemon juice, of which there is still a lot.  Probably enough to keep Amy Winehouse in lemon-based cocktails for several months.  Still, one of the benefits of having had lemon-based cocktails all week is that they’re a perfect match for…

    5. Our Food.  The meals that we’ve eaten in the past four days have been (in no particular order): pancakes with sugar and lemon juice, linguine in lemon cream sauce with smoked salmon, fish finger sandwiches with tartar sauce and lemon, and home-made bread and lemon summer soup.  I have no idea what we’re having for tea this evening, but I sense that it may involve a lemon.  And I don’t want to eat any more lemons.  I think I may be turning yellow.  And then there’s…

    6.  The Smell.  The fridge smells of lemons.  The kitchen smells of lemons.  I smell of lemons.  My wife smells of lemons.  The entire ground floor of the house smells of lemons.  Our cat now lives in the garden because of the smell of lemons.  Our neighbours have been looking at us strangely all week, presumably because of the smell of lemons emanating from our house.  If you were to send a letter to:

    The house that smells of lemons,

    York.

    We would probably receive it.  Please do not send any circulars.  Or lemons.

    7.  The Lemons Are Seemingly Infinite.  Despite having consumed so many lemons that my blood is now 29% citric acid; despite having reduced half of their number to juice; despite having made my wife  consume so many lemons that she could possibly use it as grounds for divorce – “Being married to him was horrible, m’lud.  He filled the kitchen with bicycles and forced me to eat lemons.” – there are still many, many bloody lemons in the fridge.  At the current rate of consumption, they will probably last for about three months…

    …which is when the limoncello will be ready.  Will this lemon-hell never end?