P has no idea this post is “all about P,” so perhaps I should begin with a small note:

P-

This entire post is, well, all about you.

Love,

Brittny

PS- Don’t kill me.

Okay- moving on. I have three P related “things” I want to share today! The first is sort of serious, the second two are so freaking funny.

This first bit is my sister’s short entrance essay into one of the colleges where she’s applying. When I read it, I loved it (and it’s not just because she’s my sister either!), and I wanted to share.

Here it is, and by the way- I took out the school name. It just says “university” in place of what she really wrote. I’m the moron- not her.

I go to a school where my classrooms seem more like the United Nations, rather than a high school. When I walk down the corridors, my ears are bombarded with Urdu, Afrikaans, Arabic, French, and Hindi. I’m not sure if they are talking about the AP Biology test they just failed or what they had for dinner, but I don’t mind. I adore knowing that my hallways are crowded with people nothing like me; people who greet me with a kiss upon each cheek rather than a “What’s up?”, people who pray five times a day to a different God than I do, and people who sometimes wear strict traditional dress, rather than Abercrombie and Fitch. I am satisfied with the fact that “road tripping” isn’t an option for me, because I know that would just get me to the Iraqi border. My eyes have adjusted to minarets dotting the skyline. My body has grown accustomed to the 115 degree temperatures that plague this land for several months out of the year. My life has been dramatically altered while living in this Middle Eastern nation and I would not have had it any other way.

The aforementioned is my daily routine, but more recently, it has served as criteria for finding the perfect university for me. It is imperative that I spend the next four years of my life in a place of blending cultures. University is eye-catching; University radiates diversity. Thus stated, when the opportunity to become more well-rounded and cultured is given to me, I cannot ignore it. My desire to study at University is undeniable and I am assured that it would add to my global outlook. Additionally, University is the only institution I am applying to in the United States. I am aware that there are thousands of universities in the U.S., but I am assured that only University can fulfill my international prerequisites, and quench my passion and necessity for culture. The education and experiences I hope to gain at University will be brilliant, illustrious, and unmatched. I am ready to study at University’s own “Melting Pot”.

Aw, she’s so smart isn’t she? She gets it from her sister (Ha).

So, as much as I don’t want her to go away to college, I’m slowly easing into the idea!

So that’s that. I also have a couple more other P related things to share. She actually suggested I blog about this one, so I’m in the clear for telling you about this stuff.

A couple nights ago, P stayed the night in the hospital (nothing serious- the doctor sort of over reacted). Well coming out of the anesthesia she was incredibly loopy and giggly. This is the email she sent telling me about what happened after her scope. The words in parentheses are the English translations of the Arabic words. I don’t know how funny this stuff will be to you guys. It might be one of those “You had to be there” moments, but I sure thought it was hilarious.

OMG I was dying laughing..it was hilarious. it would have made you laugh.
I have a blog topic for you to do if you dont have any ideas:

okay so I had just gotten out of the thing and I couldn’t stop laughing and this Arab guy next door (there were only curtains) was about to have to get an enema. OMG BRITTNY. I was CRYING hahaha . it went like this:

“sir, you need a en-e-ma” (Filipino accent)

“shinno (what’s an) enema?”

“um you put this.......there (I think she must have pointed to his butthole)”

“waynek (where)..yani(like)..thereeee????” (and then I think he must have pointed too)

“yes sir, in your rec-ter-um”

HAHAHAHHAHA.

Apparently my sister caused quite a commotion with all her laughter. My mom said she was out of control.  I can’t even imagine. I wish I could have been there. I bet she was a hoot.

Okay, okay, last thing and I promise I’m done.

My parents and sister went to Oman last weekend for Eid (the ending celebration of Ramadan) and apparently my sister ate a whole lot and complained a lot about how bloated she felt. What do you guys think??

I told her it was just her imagination. She looks great, right?

Okay, enough silliness for one day. <3

I think I’m starting a tradition.

This week’s confession deals with something totally stupid (I guess that’s why I have to confess).

I’m afraid of the blue tupperware container in my work refrigerator.

Not just afraid.

Terrified.

There. I said it.

I am seriously scared of the blue tupperware container in the office fridge.

If only I could insert a picture of it right now… that would be the best of all.

Okay, here’s the story.

The week Will went home for his big OU-Miami game, I had gone grocery shopping for me and P. I got lots of good stuff that Will normally doesn’t like to eat. I had made a tomato, cucumber, and feta salad for me and P one night and decided to make enough for me to take to work the next day. What a smartie, right? So, I put the remaining portion of the salad in a blue tupperware container and brought it to work with me.

Well, unfortunately I got extremely busy that next day. So busy, in fact, that I forgot to eat lunch! My poor salad was abandoned and neglected. I had totally forgot about it.

That was 8 1/2 weeks ago.

You would think after a day or two I would have thought, “Oh Yeeeahhh! I forgot about the blue tupperware container in the work fridge!”

Only I didn’t.

Then the weekend came.

Then Ramadan hit in full force and I barely used the fridge because of my fasting coworker.

So, before I knew it- a month had passed without any regard for the blue tupperware container of feta, cucumber, and tomato salad in the fridge.

Then one day, I remembered.

I remembered and thought to myself, “Oh wow- that’s really sick! I’m going to have to get that out of here!”

And that was about all that occurred.

I closed the fridge and went on with my day. The container never left its little nook on the right hand side of the fridge. It seemed so happy, so content to stay and grow. Why bother it?

So now it’s been over two months. Now I’m just sickened by the thought of actually picking up the container for fear that it has grown arms and will, in one split instant, swallow me whole to mold and spore and spawn with the remnants of what was a cucumber, feta, and tomato salad.

Every time I open the fridge now, it’s like this huge glaring reminder staring back at me. It’s as if the cucumbers are knocking on the lid saying, “Hey! I’m beyond slimy! Get me the crap out of here! I hate feta! I hate feta!” and then they try to get the tomatoes all fired up as if to start a riot.

And I simply respond by shutting the fridge door.

The way I see it, I don’t have many options. I could take the container home- stinking my poor coworkers out the whole ride to the apartment.

I could throw the whole container in the trash- stinking my entire office up for quite possibly the next 4 months- or at least until Christmas.

Or-

I could leave it be.

I’ve opted to leave it be.

Yeah, yeah, so the reality is that I do have more options, but hey- why mess with a good thing?

So now everytime I open the fridge I let out a little groan about how incredibly uber DISGUSTING it is for SOME FREAKING INCONSIDERATE SICK MORON to leave crap in the fridge FOR FIVE MONTHS!

I love how I blame it on someone else.

The trouble is that it’s just me and this other girl in my office.

I can’t be sure, but I think she knows it’s me.

So what’s a girl to do? I’ve simply ignored it for 8 1/2 weeks now, and as each day passes the more grossed out I get!

Sadly, I think my poor blue tupperware container is going to have to take a trip to the outside dumpster.

Eh…

What’s one more week? 

Simply Hilarious: Skip Dessert T-Shirt.

I was at work until 9:00 last night.

I was beyond annoyed with the entire situation.

When you work on a military base in the middle east you’re stuck.

Totally stuck on base until you are leaving for the day. There’s no running to the grocery store or going to Applebees on your lunch break. You’re stuck, dang it.

Somehow around 7:30 I “volunteered” myself to get dinner for everyone. My boss gave me money and we all agreed the easiest thing to get would be pizza. I attempted to call and order but got no answer.

No pizza.

“I KNOW!” some freaking braniac shouted, “LET’s HAVE SUBWAY!”

What a GREAT idea!

Not.

Do you know how freaking impossible it is to order sandwiches and salads for like a thousand people?

“I want a six inch turkey on white...no, no wait… make it wheat Doh! Sorry- you know what, let’s stick with white. Then I want pickles, olives, tomatoes, a TINY bit of italian dressing, a DAB of mayo, a SPRINKLE of salt. Then you do the hokey-pokey and you turn yourself around,

thats

what

it’s

all

about!”

I was about to launch across the desk in a firey fury at that point.

So-

As I’m headed to Subway, fuming about work, fuming about “volunteering,” and fuming about ordering 56 different variations of the same sandwich, and all I can say is (and I have no idea where it came from or what it means, but trust me- it made sense at the time):

“I’m starving and I’m pissed. I can go without the food, but not without the pissed. That’s right- I’d like an order of ‘pissed’, please!”

Who knows what I was thinking. All I know is that I totally laughed at myself for being such a weirdo.

By the way- they don’t serve that at Subway.

Okay guys- it’s Monday Confession.

I have a major crush.

I’ve got it bad, guys. Real bad.

I have a super major couple crush on the people that are going to become our bestest friends in the whole wide world over here.

They just don’t know it yet.

There is this couple I simply adore (granted, I’ve seen them for like a total of 5 minutes- but hey! when it’s love, it’s love, am I right?).

Here’s the story.

This February, when we went to the Super Bowl, we flew home out of D.C. Well, as we prepared to board I noticed the cutest couple ever!

AKA our “bestest friends in the whole wide world over here that just don’t know it yet (Crap! That’s a long name for this couple. They’re worth it though. Well… I hope so… see, I’ve kinda sorta never exactly spoken to them just yet. We’ll get to that later.)!”

They’re probably around our age. They were a nice looking couple. They appeared to be poised, smart, and adorable- you know, a great freaking couple that everyone wants to hang out with!

So I was half tempted to throw myself all over them like a cheap college tramp after a few too many drinks at a Tri-Del party- but I refrained. Afterall, what would I have said? “Uh- hiya. I see you’re about to board a plane to Kuwait. Whatdoyouknow- so are we!” and then tell them about how we just came from the Super Bowl?

Um- I prefer to hide this football obsession from people until I know we’re life-long friends. Plus, I was looking incredibly rough (I mean, who likes to travel 18 hours dressed to the nines?), and the wife looked super cute. Double Plus- they were flying 1st class and we were in the freaking back of the plane next to someone that smelled like bacon and cooler ranch doritos. That’s not exactly the first impression I wanted to make.

In the midst of smelly bacon-dorito-back-of-the-plane funk, my crush began.

After we landed in Kuwait, the entire plane crowded around the baggage claim all looking for the exact same black Samsonite suitcase. I once again noticed the couple, and once again thought to myself, “I really want them to be our friends, darn it!” We stood near each other as our husbands found and loaded our luggage, but no words were exchanged. Sigh. That was the end of the story.

Or so I thought!

A few months later, we came across them again. This time it was at the Sultan Center. “Wow! We have so much in common! We both ride planes and we buy groceries at the Sultan Center!” See, guys? We’re a match made in Heaven.

So, as I was perusing the dairy section I did a quick cart check. You gotta know what your best friends are putting into their bodies, right? Well, they passed the cart test. If I had any doubts they were a great couple worthy of our Friday nights, they were diminished the second I saw their produce.

So, I looked like a freaking drooling moron at the store that day. I just can’t seem to get over how incredibly normal these people look, and I can’t stop wondering, “What in the WORLD these people are doing here? They’re so normal! Just like us!” Normal Americans are not common in this country. Hence why I’m practically laying myself in front of these people.

Anyway- So yeah, we saw them again. Nothing happened, though. Just a simple cart check that ended up with me hiding underneath their cart trying to secretly place our phone number into their lunch meat while they strolled about the cereal aisle living their lives (and wondering how their cart suddenly got so heavy).

Just kidding about the cart thing.

Don’t think I didn’t consider it, though.

And then? Then there was this weekend.

Another few months had passed since my last bestest friend ever spotting, and quite honestly I had forgotten that there was hope in finding a nice young couple in this country. Will and I decided to celebrate the end of Ramadan and the re-opening of civilization during the day by going to Chilis for lunch Saturday. We got there soon after it opened and had the place practically to ourselves. We sat down, and you’ll never guess in a million years who was sittng across from us!

YES!

OUR BEST FRIENDS EVER!

Okay, not directly across from us- there was a table in between, but still- we were practically having lunch together, guys!

Anyway, I know I sound like an incredibly OBSESSIVE high school girlfriend, but I think they noticed us too.

...

Or maybe I’m just telling myself that so I feel better.

I finally cracked and told Will about my crush. He never knew I had scouted out our newest friends. I told him the whole story and he responds with, “Huh. I never noticed them at the airport. Who are they again?”

Sigh.

I feel like I’m talking to a wall sometimes.

After re-explaining my story and once again hearing from Will that he didn’t remember ever seeing these people, I gave up. I mean really, guys, what was I going to do? Proudly get up, walk to their table, sit right next to the wife and introduce myself?

“HI! I’m Brittny. I know you don’t know me, but I’ve been in love with you guys from the first moment they called your boarding pass in D.C. this winter.

You fly.

We fly.

You shop at the Sultan Center.

We shop at the Sultan Center.

You eat at Chilis.

We eat at Chilis.

Mmm, fries (reaching onto her plate and shoving one in my mouth)! I love those too! See! It’s like we were seperated at birth! All you have to do now is tell me your husband loves football and we’ll make you the godparents of our firstborn!”

Yeah- try making that conversation not sound stalkerish!

Totally not going to happen.

Will thought I was a total goof for crushing so much. I guess it is a little silly. Why can’t we at least run in the same circles! Do you know how impossible it is to befriend people who don’t even know you’re alive!? Seriously!

So, lunch was over and I bid our friends “goodbye” as Will once again made fun of my incredible dorkiness.

After lunch it was off to the Sultan Center for groceries. Same old story, nothing exciting. As I went to grab some yogurt, you’ll never guess who in the WORLD I saw!

Yep!

Our best friends.

(insert Twilight Zone music)

What are the odds! 4 sightings in a country of one million people?

Is it a sign?

Are we destined to keep running into each other until one of us gets brave and says something?

Weird!

This time I swear there was a look. They totally knew who we were. At last! They remembered us!

(insert hallelujah chorus)

Everything got all slow motion-y and hazy and they slowly pushed their cart towards us, it was like one of those terrible teenage love movies.

Sigh. Love, I tell you. Love.

SCREECH!

My odd little dream sequence came to a quick halt.

Unfortunately, we had gotten a head start on our shopping and were headed for the check out line. They, however, were just getting started with their shopping.

Sigh.

Another bust.

Um, so guys? Question. Does this give me the right to say a friendly, “Hello (and nothing more I swear! I promise not to open my stupid mouth and say anything dumb)” if we ever cross paths again? Hmm…

Because you know what? I’m such a freaking chicken and will never say anything, not even hello, because I’m so timid. How dumb, right? I definetly have “hello” rights, though.

Right?

What’s the worse they could say?

Nothing?

That’s not so bad. They seem so normal that I doubt either of them would begin rotating their heads and spitting pea soup at us or anything.

Hello is safe. Hello it is.

(proudly proclaiming) My name is Brittny, and I’m going to say hello.

So, once again our paths crossed, and once again nothing happened.

Later that afternoon, I brought up the subject again. Will repeated what he said earlier that day, “I think it’s just you that notices people, Britter. I bet they’re just like me and don’t even remember us.”

“I bet you’re wrong!”

(sarcastically), “Yeah. I bet they’re having this exact conversation right now.”

“You know what!? I bet they ARE! I mean, who wouldn’t want to be our friends!?!”

-Pause-

Huge Eruption of Laughter.

“Alright, alright. I guess I better just stick to admiring from afar. I am going to say hi if we ever see them again, though. They are, afterall, our bestest friends in the whole world!”

Just FYI I might not be posting from Thursday night-Saturday night. I’ll be camping out at the Sultan Center in hopes of another sighting.

Ha ha just kidding!

(sort of)

Why?

Why in the WORLD would anyone ever put their Titanium Oakleys on the passenger side seat?

Why?

Why would one do that?

Do you not realize that’s simply inviting someone to carelessly hop in the car without looking and crush them to smithereens?

Because it is you know!

Want know who puts their Titanium Oakleys on the passenger side seat?

My husband!

Do you guys realized that not only did I hop in the car and ride all the way to dinner SITTING ON A FREAKING PAIR OF SUNGLASSES

but I also got out for dinner,

hopped in the car again- STILL SITTING ON A FREAKING PAIR OF SUNGLASSES

got out to get ice cream,

hopped back in the car STILL SITTING ON A FREAKING PAIR OF SUNGLASSES,

and got to our apartment when Will finally realized that his poor sunglasses were all wobbly and screaming for air.

I don’t know what’s more pathetic-

the fact that Will carlessly put an expensive pair of sunglasses on the passenger seat or the fact that my big fat butt didn’t freaking even know it!

How embarrassing, right?

How in the WORLD do you not know you’re sitting on a pair of sunglasses!?!

I need to go cry now.

How?

How in the freaking WORLD can our AC go out in October?

Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re thinking, “At least it’s not JULY Brittny.”

And you know how I respond to that?

BY FLINGING SWEAT ON YOU.

Poor Will is terrified of me. You may not remember, but I sweat a lot. Yep, I’m a sweater. I think I’ve talked about being hot or sweating about a thousand times since the inception of this blog. Not only that, but I become quite unbearable when I get hot. I told Will tonight that God has me living in the 21st century for a reason. Do you know what he said to that?

“Yeah. You would have been the grumpy old maid if you were alive during any other era.”

Awww. He’s so sweet and romantic, isn’t he? That’s why I married him, you know.

The second we realized that the AC wasn’t just “frozen up” but instead murdered, we both just looked at each other and sort of laughed. He was like, “Oh crap.” That was all that needed to be said.

So, the rest of the day we played “who can be still the longest” and tried not to move as long as we possibly could.

I think I’ve surprised Will with my decent attitude. I’ve been rather peachy all day. We’ve had a really good day today. In fact, I’ve surprised myself! I think it’s because although it’s still FREAKING HOT (over 100), it’s not This-Heat-Is-Not-Only-Making-Me-STERILE-but-is-Also-Going-to-Take-My-Young-Life sort of hot. It’s that sort of hot from May to September. October is a lot better. I guess I should be thankful, right?

I came really close to body-slamming Will tonight, though. We were getting ready to go on our triple date and he had

EVERY

FREAKING

LIGHT

ON

IN

THE

HOUSE.

Um- hello burning light heat!!!

I would go behind him and turn off all the lights.

I’d go back to slooowly getting myself ready (as to not break a sweat!), only to turn around and see the freaking lights back on. I’d slowly get up, spray myself down with a water bottle, and turn the lights off again.

I’d get myself all situated and back to what I was doing only for the stupid freaking pieces of crap to be right back on.

Do you want to know how to make your eye twitch? THAT’S how to make your eye twitch.

He didn’t get my “system.” Trust me, there’s a system.

So, now we’re sitting with just two lights on in the whole house and two candles going. I told Will that burning candles would make me hot and he just looked at me like I was a freaking idiot.

I wasn’t kidding.

I also told him I couldn’t work out on the elliptical today because, “I would spread the heat” if I started sweating. Again, he just looked at me like in wonder.

Again, I wasn’t kidding.

Then.

Then!

Then my parents offer to house us tonight and instead of jumping on that wagon Will’s like, “No, we’re fine.”

Speak for yourself! I have sweat rolling down my freaking back and am trying to remember that Punky Brewster where the girl gets herself locked in the freezer during hide and go seek just so I can remember how they got her out just incase I need to climb into our fridge tonight- and you’re turning away an offer to sleep in peace. (I think I’ve made my point clear: I hate being hot and I hate sweating).

HELLO!!

Anyway, as you’ve guessed, we’re at our house.

We’re calling first thing in the morning to get it fixed. We would have called today, but it’s their holy day so nothing would have gotten done. Hopefully, for every living creature’s sake, our AC will get fixed tomorrow. Poor Boz and Lucy. They’re miserable. Their hair is long right now and although I can’t be positive, I really think I heard Lucy call me a naughty word today. Their getting groomed next week, but hopefully we’ll have the AC back by then.

I knew I loved our tile floors for a reason. I’ll be sleeping on them tonight.

Have a good weekend!

Your sweaty friend,

Brittny

I was so freaking desperate for chocolate last night that I resorted to 3 chocolate Viactiv vitamins.

...

On top of the 2 I already had that morning- soley for calcium purposes.

Umm, can’t be sure but I’m leaning towards the fact that wasn’t too smart.

How pathetic.

The truth is that I can’t keep “crap” in my house because it will get eaten!

Not eaten in a normal human being way.

Eaten in a Gargantuan-I’m-Going-To-Suck-The-Life-Right-Out-of-This-Refrigerator-And-Then-Smear-Peanut Butter-All-Over-Myself sort of way.

(insert evil laugh) Muahahahahahaha

My self control is rather lacking. Thank God Will can’t cook. That would have been disastrous.

Ha, while we’re on the subject of eating I ought to mention I’m going to the Gaucho this weekend (the one in Kuwait- not in the UK of course) to have a 10 ounce slab of marble-y Argentinean beef so tender and amazing that when it’s slapped on my plate- juice comes flying at my new shirt.

And I don’t even get mad.

The company at the Gaucho, however, will be far less thrilling than this steak.

(then again, what IS more thrilling than a huge pile of roaring beef jucing all over itself and staring right at you- right?)

We’ll be accompanying my parents on a triple date.

Yes, incase you’re wondering, Will is thrilled. He clasped his hands in jubulation and began jumping up and down and in a high pitch shrill yelled, “Yay! Friends, friends friends! We’re going out with frrrrrrrriends for dinner!”

not.

I’m going to have to drug the poor man to get him to go.

Shh- he doesn’t know that part yet.

Do you think a sleeping pill and 20 cups of coffee will make him lucid and excited to be at this grand event? Hmmm....

Anyway, we’re going out with another couple a little older than my parents.

We’re going to talk about Metamucil and IRAs and how often we pee after 11 pm and our children and how smart and wildly successful they are.

Hmmm- note to self: enroll Boz in Higher Education

Who am I kidding? No one is going to believe Boz, my little boy dog, is smart enough to attend school.

Note to self: enroll Lucy in Higher Education

Yeah, that’s better.

I can’t wait. Fun fun!

...

or at least blogging material.

oh-

and steak.

More to Come…

I mentioned I recently got a new phone (remember? I was snapping pictures as if Boz were at his first Little League game).

Well, I thought today would be a good time to come clean and confess a daily game I play with my phone.

It’s called “How Many Times Did I Call Al Today!?”

You see, before getting this Nokia I had a Razr. That means all the buttons were protected. Now, however, I have this Nokia and all the buttons are naked and exposed much like Alicia Silverstone in her new PETA commercial, only, I’m pretty sure my phone is a carnivore.

Anyhow, my buttons are all naked and exposed, desperate to make a call- even sneaking behind my back to do so! I have this terrible habit of accidentally pranking people ALL THE FREAKING TIME!

It really sucks to be my friend if your name begins with an A. Seriously.

Okay, okay. I know what you’re thinking- “There’s a LOCK mechanism Brittny.” Yeah, yeah I know. I just don’t use it all the time.I don’t know why.

Don’t ask.

ANYWAY-

Where was I?

I’m accidentally pranking people ALL THE FREAKING TIME!

The first weekend I had my phone I called my coworker Al 23 times. 23 times! That’s crazy!

He’s a newlywed.

I’m sure his wife wants to stab a pencil in the little giggly junior high girl’s eye that

WOULDN’T

STOP

CALLING

HER

HUSBAND!

Can’t say I blame her.

The real bothersome thing was- “Uh- what all did he get to hear those 23 times?”

Talk about making your mind race!

I mean, it’s not like I hold the world’s secrets and get to wear cool 007 gadgets and have “assets” and talk in code or anything- but still!- I don’t want my coworker knowing that I spend an hour trying to decide what kind of deoderant to buy either!

He came into the office the weekend after the 23 million phone call escapade all curious about the bits and pieces of conversation he was privy too.

It’s amazing what you can glue together based on hearing 23 different phone calls. In fact, it’s a little embarrassing. I then had to convince him that Will was not going to be a judge on America’s Next Top Model and yes, I really did eat half a box of Bran Buds in less than a day and the consequences were less than desired.

Try saying that in a professional manner!

Yeah- that was fun.

Ever since that weekend I’ve been better about locking my phone.

However-

I’m still not perfect. I have my phone with me all the time. It’s constantly being shoved in my purse, hiding in my pocket, getting smashed against my hand as I try to hold 7 grocery sacks, unlock the house door, and text message my sister. Accidental phone calls are bound to occur.

Every day I come home and assess how many freaking times I accidentally called anyone whose name begins with the cursed A. Poor souls.

So, I decided to make a game of it. I look back at my records and see how many times I called and try to guess what I was doing at that time and what the person heard.

“Oops! They were in my pocket when I was in the ladies room today.”

“Ha ha, they know I had Subway today!”

“Hmm, I wonder if they got to hear about my theory on pants?”

Yes. I’m beyond nerdy. Hey- it’s Confession Monday though- what did you expect!?

Your turn to fess up. 

Remember the old days of Sesame Street? There used to be this game where kids would have to pick which item was not like all the other items. Ha- I can still remember the silly song!

One of these things is not like the other,
One of these things just doesn’t belong,
Can you find which thing is not like the other,
By the time I finish my song?

Yes, I agree that it’s sad that I still remember this song. However, you might understand why I’m reminded of it when you see this picture:

If you guessed that the Cocoa Pebbles don’t belong, you’re right.

Guess who they belong too?

Hint- If you guessed, me, Boz, or Lucy you’re incorrect.

Oh, and if you’re wondering why in the WORLD I have an entire cabinet devoted to South Beach and Kashi items, it’s because they don’t sell a lot here so I order them online. Plus, Will got me several boxes when he was home a few weeks ago.

While I was poking around our cabinets I just had to take a picture of this (it’s too funny):

Let’s analyze!

I know the picture cuts off some of the box, but you’re able to see all you need to:

Get Happy Inside.

Can I simply say eating All Bran Bran Buds will NOT make you happy inside?

In fact, you will be so UNHAPPY and miserable inside that you will wish a UFO will land on the Earth and slimy green aliens will take over your body so that they will feel bloated,miserable, and 5 times their weight instead.

Did you know a serving of that stuff is like .33 of a cup? Uh- raise your hands if you eat .33 of a cup of cereal!

If you raised your hand- you’re lying. Who eats a little over a quarter cup of cereal?

NO ONE!

So- if you eat .33 of a cup of this stuff, I’m sure you will be happy inside. I think a serving has 55% of your fiber requirements. Pretty good.

However- for the normal population of people that live and function in the world- we all eat at least half a freaking cup of cereal each morning. I’ll go even further to say that most of us eat 3/4 to 1 cup of cereal a day.

That means we’re eating about 233.234% more fiber than the average requirement.

Trust me your body will NOT be happy inside.

Also- you see how it says “You’re In Control!” All pretty and yellow?

Just FYI- you’re NOT.

You’re SO not.

Did you notice that it also mentions a “Feeling of Lightness?”

AHAHAHAHAHA

Um- not so much.

One bowl of that stuff and you feel like a bloated hot air balloon carrying a freaking Peterbuilt Semi in the basket.

Ha. Lightness. That’s so funny.

These freaking cereals need to come with a warning.

Something like:

Warning! Consuming More Than a Serving of this Cereal Will Cause:

Uncontrollable Cramping, Bloated Tummies, Inability to Concentrate During Important Meetings, Odd Facial Expressions, and Embarrassing Foot Shaking/Twitching

Please (seriously- for everyone’s sake) exercise caution when eating more than a serving. We recommend staying home the entire day.

And Wet Wipes.

Lots and lots of Wet Wipes.

Ha Ha, just kidding.

(not really)