I'm convinced my microwave oven includes alien technology. It came with the house, so I'm not sure of its origins.
Either it was accidently shipped to the contractor from Roswell, or it's one of those "Tommyknockers" things and I rewired it in my sleep, enhancing its factory presets.
I came to this conclusion not when it threw sparks off frozen diced bellpepper I thaw periodically for omlets, but while I was attempting to get a taco shell crisp without searing a hole through it tonight. Anything above twenty seconds and a taco shell is ashes.
It's the most powerful microwave I've ever owned, and it's particularly annoying with these new 100 calorie bags of microwave popcorn I bought by mistake. Christine said I have to use them all before I can buy more.
I can't seem to get all of the kernels popped before my microwave burns a hole in the side of the bag, though. I probably could use a half-power setting or something, but I don't like figuring out how to make it cook at half power. I hate when frozen dinners demand that you do that, while reminding me my food will be hot once its microwaved. "Don't come running us if you get a steam burn," they admonish me.
If I have to go to all the trouble to figure out how to set it to half power, I think I need to see if I can harness its capabilities.
Maybe I can use it to leverage world peace. I'll get back to you as soon as I figure this all out.