When I was thirteen or fourteen, the movie Clueless came out. It weaved into the very fabric of the lives of girls my age. Containing phrases like As if! and I'm outtie, the film became a sort of instant cult classic. Clueless was a then modern day adaptation of Emma, except with better one-liners and that girl from the Aerosmith video.
There's a scene in the film where the crew goes to a party in "The Val" (also known as Sun Valley). While there, Donald Faison's character decides to shave his head. His girlfriend finds him, mid shave, and they have the following exchange.
Dionne: Why did you do this to your head?
Murray: Because I'm keepin' it real. Because I'm keepin' it real.
Murray: 'Cause I'm keepin' it...cause' I'm keepin' it real.Dionne: Look! Look what he's done to his head! Can you believe this?
And from the time I first saw that movie, back in 1995, the phrase, "'Cause I'm keepin' it real," has gone through my head so many more times than I could ever count.
It's almost a slogan for how I want to live my life. Ask me a question in Bible study that I don't know the answer to (which happens a lot more than I'd care to admit) and I'll tell you I don't know but that I'll find out. Or I speculate an answer with the caveat that I don't actually know. Why? 'Cause I'm keepin' it real. Ask me if motherhood is all daisies and tulips. I'll probably tell you no. Why? 'Cause I'm keepin' it real. And, truthfully, sometimes motherhood is daisies and tulips but a lot of the time it's vomit and blood and dirt. So much dirt. I try to be genuine. I attempt to admit and own my mistakes. I believe in authenticity. I believe in keepin' it real.
That's why there's a label on this blog for Things I Probably Shouldn't Blog About.
And this is one of them.
For some really strange and inexplicable reason, I decided long, long ago that there was something inherently disgusting about canola oil. I have no idea what happened or why I made this decision. Recent research on my part has led to the discovery that canola oil is actually a healthier choice than my trusty vegetable oil. I love vegetables. Perhaps it was this very piece of information that led to my conclusion that vegetable oil was somehow a less fattening and disgusting option than canola oil. Like I said, there's really no actual explanation--at least, not that I can remember.
Over the years, I've purchased and used bottles and bottles of vegetable oil. In my pantry, next to the golden child also known as vegetable oil, has sat a partially used bottle of canola oil. The reject. Truly, I haven't touched it in forever and a day. And a half.
Last night, I decided to make popcorn for the boys. Armed with my recent information, I decided to try popping the corn in canola oil. I pulled the bottle down. It felt old in my hands. And ickily sticky. I checked the date.
And...only because I'm keepin' it real, I took a picture.
Best if used by THE SEVENTH DAY OF MARCH IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD TWO THOUSAND FOUR!
Oh. Oh. The humanity.
I'm going to just go ahead and point something out ('cause I'm keepin' it real). That EXPIRED bottle of canola oil has survived not just one but two moves. In two thousand SEVEN (a mere three and a half years after it expired) we moved to a completely different state. In two thousand EIGHT we moved to a different house in the same county. Still, the grossly expired oil made its way off of a shelf, into a box, and back onto a shelf because, apparently, I'm super disgusting like that.
Folks, in just eleven months that oil would have been a decade past its expiration date. A DECADE. And I'm the one my family looks to for nourishment. Now, I've got a sneaking suspicion that oil can live well past it's shelf life. I mean, it's basically liquid fat so I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that it can take care of itself but I'm also fairly certain that a near decade is way, way past acceptable.
I'm also going to confess that when I initially read the date, I missed the '04 because of the lighting in my kitchen and the way I was holding the bottle. I thought it said March of '07. I almost gagged up my dinner. Then, and only then, did I realize it was actually '04. How does that even happen? I mentally berated myself. This bottle wasn't even buried in the back of my pantry. No. It was front and center for all the world to come over and see.
Any of these people could have happened upon my rancid canola oil and suspected some form of inventive, albeit horrifying, spousal or child abuse.
I'm ashamed, people. I'm ashamed.
So, I did what any humiliated-at-her-lack-of-domestic-skills woman would do. I put it back in the pantry.
'Cause I'm keepin' it real.
No I definitely didn't. I dumped that nasty fat down the drain faster than you can say, "Year of our Lord two thousand four." Even though I totally know that you're not supposed to put oil down the drain. Double fail.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm about to go tear apart my pantry in search of other heinously expired items.