The dishwasher. Is there any device more fundamentally representative of a middle-class American existence? I sure love to throw me some luxurious dinner parties, using sage and parsnips, but ever since Abraham Lincoln said all my employees could go, having people over has been so much fucking work.
Enter the dishwasher, a machine designed entirely so you could quickly get back to drinking. But since its introduction into the American household by R.T.
Shinefork in 1965 (maybe?), the dishwasher has been a point of contention between man and woman ever since.
Can this soup pot go in it? What the fuck is prewashing? It sounds a hell of a lot like washing to me. Who says bowls can’t go on the bottom rack? Jesus? And yes, I do want to use the heat dry. Because they wouldn’t have put it there, Miranda, if you weren’t meant to use it. I’ll pay the damn electric bill this month if it’s that big a deal.
So let’s break this workhorse down and see who’s right.
Loading: Have you ever watched a woman load a dishwasher? It’s astounding. They manage to evaluate the entirety of the dishes in the sink, the dirty bowls out in the living room and what pans could potential come into play three days from now when you make Belgian Waffles for the company coming into town (Brenda and Mark love waffles). Women are cleaning savants. Meanwhile men just chuck everything in as they come across it in the sink. Spoon here. Cheese grater there. It is a much easier way to go about it. But even though I’m loathe to give a shit about how the INSIDE of my dishwasher looks (what if someone sees it?!) it’s just better to be more organized. Point: Women
Running it: Women have a tendency to wait as long as conceivably possible to run the dishwasher, holding out until every single crevice has been stuffed with some piece of flatware and the top is so laden with coffee mugs it begins to bow. The reason given for this is to conserve water. I’m sorry, have you not seen how much ocean we have? Have you read the goddamn reports of global warming? Manhattan and Bangladesh will disappear if we don’t do something. If anything, we should strive to run the dishwasher more to start pumping out the high seas. I’m saving lives. Point: Men
Prewashing: What is the point of owning a motherfucking MACHINE if it can’t do the fucking task at hand? Toss in those plates crusted with pizza sauce, the scorched baking dishes, the forks with flecks of meat in the middle. There was a scientist who got paid to make this thing work. Trust science. Oh why do you harlequins have no faith in science? Point: Men
Serving and Cooking Utensils: It’s true. These shits will not come clean. Ever throw a spatula in after making scrambled eggs? It’s still got that nasty thin film on it afterward. Except now it’s gross soapy egg slop. You need to scrub that shit with Brillo no matter what. Women know they’ll never come clean, while men continue to try. Point: Women
Large Pans: Yes. All of them. Do you see how big they are? I can’t be expected to wipe down every square inch of a ten-gallon lobster pot with a cloth. Not when I can just pop out the top rack of my dishwasher and crack open a beer. Every pot is dishwasher safe. Kettles, baking sheets, those weird green skillets women love. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you otherwise. Point: Men
Heat Dry: You really think it makes sense to use this to wash all our dishes only to stop halfway through because you know how to dry more efficiently? I refuse to believe that using heat dry significantly raises the price of the damn electric bill. Especially compared to a woman whipping out a blanket in the living room in the summer because the AC is so low. Point: Men
There you have it. With a score of 4-2, men simply know what’s best for a dishwasher. And yes, men will load it. We don’t care. It’s 2013. We will handle all of it so long as you promise not to hover over our shoulders and insist the colander can’t go in it. It’s a colander. It can go in. Have some more Sauv Blanc. We got this.
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[Dishwasher image via ShutterStock]
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