This all started out with a perfectly innocent trip to Costco.
And then ‘ish hit the fan.
Or, more accurately, the blender. Let me introduce you to the newest member of the Taylor family.
According to their website, the Blendtec is “An all-in-one appliance to help you every day. It replaces up to 9 other appliances with one fast easy-to-use machine, at a fraction of the cost.”
According to me, it’s a $400 blender.
Yes, you read me right. Four hundred dollars. For a blender.
Don’t get me wrong, I love a good blender. I drink Shakeology daily as weight loss and energy supplement and need a nice tool to blend up a creamy shake post-workout.
But do I need a blender that turns iPhone’s into dust? Probably not.
And yes, the Blendtec will literally obliterate an iPhone. This video proves it.
I do think it’s a little strange that they chose to “dedicate” the video to Steve Jobs. Personally, I wouldn’t take someone blending my life’s masterpiece as a sign of respect, but that’s just me.
This video is one of many you can view at WillItBlend.com, a site dedicated to highlighting all of the random things the Blendtec can destroy. Which may or may not include a human skeleton and Justin Bieber.
This alone pretty much makes it the best site ever.
But one thing the Blendtec can’t blend?
A smoothie created by my husband, of course.
If extreme smoothie making was an Olympic event, Scott would definitely bring home the gold for Team U.S.A. I’d estimate one of his smoothies, which includes almond milk, soy milk, orange juice, pomegranate juice, Shakeology, kale, spinach, frozen wild blueberries, raw carrots, frozen strawberries, a banana, raw sweet potatoes, chia seeds, frozen mango, whole kiwis and the juice of one lemon, contains at least $40 worth of ingredients.
He also feels compelled to pack the 80 ounce pitcher to the brim, despite the fact that he’s the only one having a smoothie.
Really, his creation is less of a “smoothie” and more of a “chunky”. I’d imagine if you blended the Jolly Green Giant with the Chiquita Banana lady, added a cup or so of mud and six ounces of Larry the Cable Guy’s sweat, it would taste pretty similar.
The early morning smoothie-making process usually goes a little something like this:
7:15 am: Scott emerges from the bathroom and heads straight for the kitchen to gather ingredients. He may or may not be wearing pants.
7:20 am: I hear someone screaming “Get IN there!” and immediately rush to the kitchen to see what the commotion is about. You’d think I’d have learned by now that Scott is yelling at the two extra cups of spinach he’s trying to force down the mouth of the Blendtec.
7:22 am: I return to the kitchen with Scott’s pants in tow. “The Naked Chef” is a cookbook, not a fashion statement.
7:30 am: After what feels like an eternity of prep work, Scott begins to blend. Horrible noises and strange smelling fumes emerge from the Blendtec. Whoever happens to be nearest states something obvious like “Scott’s breaking the Blendtec again,” or “He knows that thing was $400, right?”
7:31 am: I politely remind Scott that he’s abusing a four-hundred dollar appliance. He rolls his eyes. I then not-so-politely point out the fact that he’s claimed the lives of 3 magic bullets, a regular blender, and a food processor. He’s essentially the grim reaper of kitchen mixers.
7:32 am: More sketchy sounding blending. More fumes. Jolie scurries under the bed out of sheer terror.
7:35 am: Still not blended. Gritty goop spatters from the bowels of the Blendtec and onto the freshly washed jeans I made Scott put on. He’s okay with it as the pants were protecting a pair of designer underwear–his only indulgence. Other than smoothies, of course.
7:36 am: I ask Scott why I’m not allowed to buy fancy, expensive underwear. He ignores me and continues to blend.
7:40 am: After 25 minutes of labor, Scott finally enjoys his fleshy mixture of health and longevity. He takes the preliminary swig and forces a not-so-convincing smile as he proclaims “Mmm! This is…great!”
7:45 am: Scott announces he’s full and requests that I finish the remaining 62 ounces of smoothie. I explain that I’m too busy buying myself some fancy, expensive underwear online. Also? I don’t believe in drinking beverages that contain raw sweet potatoes.
7:50 am: Scott heads out the door to run errands while I’m left with at least 30 minutes of kitchen clean up, despite the fact that I have a blog post to write. I quickly add two additional pairs of revenge panties to my shopping cart before grabbing a wash cloth and some dish soap.
This happens nearly every morning. Minus the underwear part. That was a one time thing.
Okay, okay twice. That’s it. Promise.
I don’t care for the smoothies, but Scott loves them. I believe he’s simply invested so much time and money in them that he’s become deeply entangled in the lie.
The lie that they’re the most delicious thing since frozen caramel cashew custard.
Mark my words, one day his $40 smoothie will turn into a $440 smoothie when he adds the Blendtec to his graveyard of maimed kitchen appliances.
Which leads me to my ultimate point. I find it extremely hard to believe that the all-powerful Blendtec can pulverize an iPhone in under a minute when it barely packs enough heat to handle one of Scott’s power smoothies.
And yet I wonder…
No. No. That would be a terrible idea.
Although technically it could be considered Scott’s fault since he did forget his iPhone at home.
And really, I’d just be helping him out as he does have what most would consider to be an unhealthy
relationship obsession with his iPhone.
And It would be so incredibly easy to dispose of the evidence and play dumb.
He would never know.
This was my inner struggle as I attempted to write a blog post on Sunday.
The solution to Scott’s iPhone addiction was literally just a few steps away.
To avoid doing the unthinkable, I continued to distract myself by purchasing even more new underwear. Things may have gotten slightly out of hand.
After all is said and done, it probably would have been cheaper to just destroy the stupid iPhone and break the blender.
Which is exactly why I will immediately blend the tags and receipts for all 47 pairs of underwear the instant they arrive, destroying any possible evidence.
I suppose what I’m trying to say is, this Blendtec thing is starting to grow on me.
Is it possible to go bankrupt from underwear?
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