Last weekend, I was in the great gay nation of San Francisco for a convention of homosexual journalists. Not that I am one of those mind you. That would be gross. Anyway, after the first day of conventioneering, a few friends and I went out for dinner. It was me, my two boyfriends and three other menfolk whom I did not know eating reasonably priced tapas in the financial district. What fun!
Anyway, no sooner had I begun congratulating myself on scoring a date with five attractive gay men when nearly all of them whipped out their computer phones and began tapping away at the screens. Now, I know I’m no picture to look at, but I’m a reasonably skilled conversationalist, especially with gay boys. Just throw out an “I love your (fill in the blank)” or “You look like you’ve lost weight” and you’ve earned a friend for life.
This morning, as I was making my toast, I heard a quirky little newsbit on NPR. It went a little something like this: “Some crazy-ass Vermont company is making toasters that crisp up your bread in the shape of Jesus. Isn’t that cute?”
Immediately, my own toast — a perfect, even brown, still hot from its descent into my Michael Graves for Target Black & Decker toaster — felt inadequate. Literally, it had a self-esteem meltdown. And, I have to admit, I liked my plain-Jane toast a little less after I heard what it could be — a glutenous slab of grain emblazoned with our savior’s face. Now I need that Jesus Toaster. Bad.
The Jesus Toaster is the brainchild of Galen Dively III, founder of Burnt Impressions, LLC, a company that began making novelty toasters this spring. From their HQ in Danville, Burnt Impressions sells toasters that will brand Jesus’ face, peace signs or marijuana leaves into your toast. Because nothing says good morning like heady, pro-weed toast.