You can also drive a car with your feet, that dosn't make it a good fucking idea.
The fridge was damn near empty. "Drat!" I said in my mind, which came out of my mouth sounding like "FUCK!" My stomach was growling, and the supersized McDonalds lardbiscuit McCholesterol combo meal I polished off earlier had just made it into my arteries. This is when I decided once again that it was time for me to try and conquer my fear of the stove.

TARGET FOOD: Frozen Hash Browns.
RESULT: Hash browns somehow turned into what I called the "Sweaty Bird's Nest of Failure." The outside was really brown, the inside was really white, and cooking oil dripped off it in blobs large enough to lubricate industrial pistons. Somehow all the potatoes, instead of acting like the friendly hash browns at Denny's which can be separated into individual slices of potato, welded themselves together to form the Sweaty Bird's Nest of Failure, which was so congealed and impenetrable that it could deflect pistol fire.

HOW IT WAS DISPOSED OF:
Hid it in my next door neighbor's closet. Occasionally I would stop by, make comments like, "Jeez, you smell like SHIT!" and walk away, but I couldn't do it too often or he would've suspected sabotage.

TARGET FOOD: Ravioli.
RESULT: Stove caught fire and I shrieked like a retarded schoolgirl until somebody dumped 20 pounds of baking soda onto the stove. The odd part was that I was simply boiling water when the stove caught fire. I still can't figure out how I managed to burn the stove while boiling water, but it happened regardless.

HOW IT WAS DISPOSED OF: Since I didn't dare boil another pot of water (under the Fire Marshall's explicit orders), I put the ravioli back in my freezer, where it will reside until the day before I move out of the apartment. I believe this will be the year my friends and I hold a "Farewell to Food" celebration and throw it out the fourth story window of my complex.

TARGET FOOD: Steak
RESULT: Don't ask. Let's just say that people who can't successfully boil a pot of water shouldn't be allowed within a 50-mile radius of uncooked beef. I think everybody in my building can vouch for that.

HOW IT WAS DISPOSED OF: Both the steak and the frying pan, which was damaged beyond repair, were given a burial at sea (a large fountain) and a 21-gun salute.