My life is free and an open book. If you don’t believe me I’m sure
there’s a snapshot floating around the internet of a young Matt on some
playa naturalista on the mediterranean. Oh god I hope not – your YOUR
sake. However, that open book slams shut and you’d be wise to watch
your fingers when you head over to my fridge. Who knows what kind of
embarassing things you’ll find there. You might discover that Adam is
the real cook in the house or that I subsist almost entirely on dairy
products like cheese and half and half. So it was with sweaty palms and
a nervous heartbeat that I decided to participate in the latest
challenge of revealing the deepest, most innermost secrets. Of my
The challenge was simple: don’t futz with or manipulate
your fridge and capture it just the way it is. Easy enough I figured…
I’m forever turning bottles to face properly.
Our fridge is
nothing spectacular. It’s not a professional model, it’s not expensive,
but golly, it works! It’s usually overpacked with work stuff, but I do
think I caught it at a good time as it’s a bit more spacious and
represents an example of our regular personal life. I do think it would
have been fantastic to photograph it with the 5k worth of caviar or the
2 whole legs of Serrano ham that were there for a photo shoot, but then
you’d probably expect me to wear gold chains and floss an escalade and
get into spats with champagne makers, yo. No way. However, I could do
without the current exterior color shade (I call it melted vanilla ice
cream) and without the automatic ice maker. You may know I’m a
stickler for the right cube, and my bizarre half ice disks don’t quite
cut it for me. But I shouldn’t complain. Ice is ice. Well, sorta.
the dork that I am I decided on presenting you a graphical
representation of our fridge. After I finished my little chart I
realized that had I not recently visited the doctor I’d probably think
my arteries were clogged with melted cheese. Mmmm, melted cheese! That
sounds so good right about now! Wait, oh, yes, my fridge. Without
Matt’s Fridge. Drumroll, please. Why am I so nervous?
Ok, so that wasn’t so bad.
What’s in your fridge?
typo alert: I just noticed I typed "draw" and not "drawer." I’m tired. I will fix it later. Can you forgive me?