my chemical romance · Sep 21, 02:32 PM
If there’s shit in the meat [video], there’s a love potion in the cookies.
Normally I don’t go for prepackaged food. I’ve been doing lots of cooking lately, thank you Tyler and Giada. So when I have a can of soup or anything that you open from a box or bag that has its own manufactured flavors, I usually gag at the fake taste.
HOWEVER.
There are 2 products that if I purchase, I canNOT stop eating. They don’t even taste that good! But once the vacuum seal on the package is broken, a new one forms in my mouth.
The first one is Snackwell’s Fat Free (yeah right) Devil’s Food Cookie Cakes. My god, which is faker, the spongey “marshmallow” layer that looks like something 3M patented? The styrofoam chocolate cake? The brittle, waxy, barely-redolent of chocolate coating? WHY ARE THESE SO GOOD??? I checked the ingredients, 90% sugar, 10% 14-letter words. Any clues there? I challenge you, if you can get past the chalky/rubbery combo of the first one, to stop there. If I eat one, I must eat the whole box. I have forbidden myself to buy these, no matter the emotional, hormonal, or other driving-force state of mind I may have in the store. I have even tried to trick myself by putting two (ok, three) of them in separate bags so that I will just go for that serving. How fast can you say “fouremptybags?” Oops, too slow!
This next beguiling treat, Quaker Chewy Chocolate Chip Granola Bars, (Keep The Goodness Going, indeed!) has me in the “I can stop any time” club. I buy these things by the bulk, and after a steady diet of them, foreswear them to Snackwell status. But these sneaky bitches are ALWAYS on sale and so I end up grabbing a couple boxes “just in case.” [What if I’m stranded in a desert/snowstorm/hurricane? What if I develop sudden-onset-hypoglycemia, if it were to exist? And such.] I dumped a box of them in my desk drawer not long ago (trust me), and just today found myself clawing and foraging like a crazed woman thru said drawer after breezily munching down the gaaaasp last one. If I have none, I’m fine. If I have one, I must have three. Do not try to intervene after two, as you could lose a precious phalange.
Where’s the rehab for these things? You got yer racial slur rehab, your Holocaust denial rehab, your spray-on tan rehab. How ‘bout something for the cardboardy-snack-addled?
