It is all my mother's fault

Ok, so I have described myself as a reluctant domestic diva. That is an understatement. But I do try. My hubs loves to garden, I do not. But I love my hubs, therefore I try. We have a ton of fresh veggies right now and I am good at steaming, so we are at least eating healthy and it is edible. Also Fat Dog loves to play in the garden along with the other dogs. She nibbles the carrot tops, and eats most of the compost pile on a daily basis. Therefore, she is FAT. Well we also have a ton of oranges, tangelos, tangerines, lemons and grapfruit. I am not quite sure why my hubs planted so much. Maybe he was planning on me putting up a fruit stand. Anyway, what do I do with pounds and pounds of citrus. Well the answer came to me late one night (or early morning), as Fat Dog and I were having a snack and watching cable TV. JUICE!!! I was inspired by the bushy eyebrows of the Juice Man. The answer to my prayers. How hard can juicing be??? Even I can juice. Live food, live body. So off to Walmart and buy the cheapest juice extractor they sell. Hey, times are tough, have to save some money here. Well after three hours and about a tenth of a cup of juice, I burned out the motor. Off to Walmart again to up the anty. Bought the $60 juicer. Now we're cooking with gas!! Alrighty three hours later and only 1/2 cup of juice. It's time for the big guns folks. QVC here I come. $350 later I have the powerhouse of juicers. This puppy can juice, clean the house and walk Fat Dog. Yeah baby, I'm gonna juice. Hubs comes in as I plug it in and tells me "Don't screw this one up". Wow, remind me why I married this wonderful supportive other half of my soul. Quickly found out why I burned up the other two juicers. You have to peel the citrus before you juice it. HUH???? If I have to peel, I might as well just eat it that way. Oh well, I am committed. I am going to juice. I told the Juice Man this at 2am. Fat Dog said she would be with me all the way. 4 hours later, covered in orange juice, seeds and pulp, with sore hands from peeling oranges, I have two whole glasses of juice. QVC, the juicer is on it's way back. Reason for return: Not user friendly:) I am not giving up. One more trip to Wallyworld for a very simple, any idiot can operate, citrus juicer. You just cut the orange in half, gently press onto the juicing cone (I am a professional by now, I know all the lingo), and presto you have fresh juice. Hubs is holding his breath, Fat Dog is trying to eat the oranges, the other chi's are jumping up and down, barking their support. I press the orange down on the cone, I hold my breath, AND there is juice. Oh my god, it is beautiful, it smells amazing, is a gorgeous orange/yellow, angels are singing in the background. I CAN JUICE!!!!!! I might just be a junior Martha Stewart. Tomorrow I am going to try baking!!!! The pitcher attached to the juicer is filling up, hubs actually tells me he loves me. Fat Dog licks my face (to get the OJ that has squirted onto my chin). I am down to the last golden orange. I pick it up, the sun bursts through the clouds, angels begin singing again, I press it down onto the cone. NOTHING!!! Hubs shakes his head and walks away, Fat Dog farts (too much citrus), the chi's go outside to eat poop , and the angels throw down their harps in disgust. Now for the answer to the million dollar question. Why is it all my mothers fault?? Because apparently she dropped me on my head several times when I was a baby.