So I told the girls at work about my silly tomato plant packaging and how it promised bushels of fun. They were as amused as I was. One of the girls said, " What's it going to do... get up and dance for you?"
Yesterday, I went to the dentist. Groan. I don't generally enjoy having my teeth cleaned. The sound and feel of sharp instruments scraping on my teeth is just not my favorite way to spend forty five minutes. Plus, my dental hygenist is extremely talkative and, while not totally obnoxious, we're not exactly kindred spirits.
For example, last fall I had an appointment with her. It was a couple days after the election and one of her conversation starters was, " So, you were probably as bummed out by the election results as we were..." and I was like, " Um...No...Actually, I wasn't." Um, hello? Okay: awkward silence. Anyway...She really means well, but...
This time, she asked me at the end of the cleaning which flavor of mouthwash I wanted to rinse with..."Citrus or mint?" I said, " Citrus." At least I thought I did. I'm pretty sure I did. I always choose Citrusy things over Minty things. Perhaps she was just so into talking about why I should have my "chart" done ( even though I told her I wasn't into astrology) that she wasn't listening. She gave me Mint mouthwash. ( This was approximately five seconds after I told her I wanted "Citrus.") What's the deal? They don't even sound alike. I said nothing. ( Just pay your bill and leave, Claire.) I guess she probably figured that the stars were aligned in the Minty House and that even if I thought I wanted Citrus flavor, the planets knew better.
I'm not even going to get into the whole Mountain Dew/Coke/delinquent girl story that she launched into when she heard that I worked at the Shelter. Let's just say, it's never boring with this lady.
The thing about going to the dentist is that it's all a big old SCAM. Once you're in their clutches, you are inextricably entwined in an evil system. You go for a cleaning, and-SURPRISE!- they just happen to "find" another cavity! You go six months later to fill the cavity, and lo, they find another! It's a fearful, endless cycle. ( And I floss and brush and rinse like a maniac. It doesn't make sense! It's too ironic: Brad isn't half as uptight as I am about the whole dental care thing and he NEVER gets cavities. ARGH.) Going to the dentist is like going to the mechanic - I'm afraid that instead of just changing the oil, they will discover that the car requires repairs that will cost the equivalent of the national debt of Namibia.
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Sunday, June 05, 2005
More Foody Issues
To clarify a bit from the last post, I want to state for the record that I am not a food snob. I will gladly eat most generic foodstuffs. I don't have to have the name-brand chips, salsa, bread, orange juice, what-have-you...In fact, my stingy, Yankee self often forbids name brand purchases.
But some things do give me cause for pause in the food department. For instance, the other day at the Shelter, I sat at the lunch table and looked at this jug of unnaturally colored fluid. The label read something like Pink Lemonade Drink. Doesn't that sort of sound redundant to you? If it's lemonade, of course it's a drink. I mean- come on! I can SEE it's a drink! If the label has to tell me it's a drink, there is something nefarious going on somewhere. Like it's really NOT lemonade. It's just a pink drink that is reminiscent of lemonade. It's sort of like when you see the label on certain sliced cheeses that says, " Cheese Food." Or " Cheese Product." Those added words, food and product, bring on a distinct feeling of uneasiness. Things are not what they seem...It's not really cheese; it's a food product. In other words, FAKE FOOD! I remember my mother pointing this out to me years ago...one of many jewels of consumer wisdom she has passed on to me over the years. It probably seemed as if I wasn't listening at the time, Mama, and no doubt I scoffed at your concern over the defrauding of America's tastebuds, but this, along with other helpful hints, has come back to haunt me as an adult.
Another label that has caused me great amusement recently is the one on the packaging of the tomato plant I bought. Yes, I have become a gardener. I have a single tomato plant. Long may it live. It sits in a big tub on the sun porch, as I thought putting it outside would expose it to many dangers, toils and snares- including the geese and chickens. I hope it has a happier fate than the last plants that lived there. ( All my plants died over the winter.) Anyway- the cardboard backing boasts great things for this tomato plant. Here is the first of its many claims: " Yields Bushels of Fun!" WOW! A magic tomato plant! It not only produces tomatoes- it produces FUN! I can't wait! It also says, " Extremely Edible!" Well, I should HOPE its' fruit is edible. ( After all, I had kind of assumed that would be the case.) But I don't see how adding the word 'extremely' to the word 'edible' should make me any more likely to purchase this plant. I guess simply having the word ' edible' standing all by itself would sound kind of lame. Hmm. The packaging also claims that this plant is "Disease and Crack Resistant." I could say a lot about this special feature but I guess I'll just say that I'm relieved that this plant has a seemingly superior immune system.
Right now, I bet you're all trembling with envy that I have found this Uber-Tomato Plant. For a small fee, I'll reveal to you where I bought it.
But some things do give me cause for pause in the food department. For instance, the other day at the Shelter, I sat at the lunch table and looked at this jug of unnaturally colored fluid. The label read something like Pink Lemonade Drink. Doesn't that sort of sound redundant to you? If it's lemonade, of course it's a drink. I mean- come on! I can SEE it's a drink! If the label has to tell me it's a drink, there is something nefarious going on somewhere. Like it's really NOT lemonade. It's just a pink drink that is reminiscent of lemonade. It's sort of like when you see the label on certain sliced cheeses that says, " Cheese Food." Or " Cheese Product." Those added words, food and product, bring on a distinct feeling of uneasiness. Things are not what they seem...It's not really cheese; it's a food product. In other words, FAKE FOOD! I remember my mother pointing this out to me years ago...one of many jewels of consumer wisdom she has passed on to me over the years. It probably seemed as if I wasn't listening at the time, Mama, and no doubt I scoffed at your concern over the defrauding of America's tastebuds, but this, along with other helpful hints, has come back to haunt me as an adult.
Another label that has caused me great amusement recently is the one on the packaging of the tomato plant I bought. Yes, I have become a gardener. I have a single tomato plant. Long may it live. It sits in a big tub on the sun porch, as I thought putting it outside would expose it to many dangers, toils and snares- including the geese and chickens. I hope it has a happier fate than the last plants that lived there. ( All my plants died over the winter.) Anyway- the cardboard backing boasts great things for this tomato plant. Here is the first of its many claims: " Yields Bushels of Fun!" WOW! A magic tomato plant! It not only produces tomatoes- it produces FUN! I can't wait! It also says, " Extremely Edible!" Well, I should HOPE its' fruit is edible. ( After all, I had kind of assumed that would be the case.) But I don't see how adding the word 'extremely' to the word 'edible' should make me any more likely to purchase this plant. I guess simply having the word ' edible' standing all by itself would sound kind of lame. Hmm. The packaging also claims that this plant is "Disease and Crack Resistant." I could say a lot about this special feature but I guess I'll just say that I'm relieved that this plant has a seemingly superior immune system.
Right now, I bet you're all trembling with envy that I have found this Uber-Tomato Plant. For a small fee, I'll reveal to you where I bought it.
Friday, June 03, 2005
In which I rail against inferior comestibles
You know it's been a busy day when you arrive home in the late afternoon and find yourself still carrying your half eaten breakfast. No- not a bowl of mushy cereal... but a one third eaten banana. Said fruit followed me around through the day, growing more and more unappetizing as the hot hours passed. I don't know why I still have it. It's quite disgusting by now I suppose. Perhaps it will find its way into a smoothie of some sort soon. I hate wasting bananas. Evidence of this can be seen in our freezer which is half full of bananas that were too browned to eat, but still good for banana bread...someday.
While we're on the topic of food, I recently discovered that I have superior tastebuds. One of the perks of my current job is the free food. ( A little TOO much free food I think sometimes...but let's count the old blessings, shall we?) Often, I bring a banana with me in the morning and combine it with a bowl of cereal once I get to work. Usually I have Cheerios. One morning this week I poured myself a bowl and received a small shock as the first spoonful passed my lips. I said to the other staff and residents present, " Are these Cheerios stale...or are they healthy?" Funny how the two options seem to go hand in hand. One of the residents said in a sympathetically condemning tone, " They're OATIE-O's." Aaaaah.
I recently saw something on the news about how there was this taste-test done with various brands of food and beverages and how people who thought they had discriminating tastes actually preferred the generic or store brands to the big-name, higher priced brands when they were all unlabeled and mixed up together. Hmmm. I guess they didn't test Cheerios and Oatie-o's against each other...because I don't really think I have superior tastebuds. I think the difference would smite even the greatest dullard's palate. Inferior comestibles, indeed.
While we're on the topic of food, I recently discovered that I have superior tastebuds. One of the perks of my current job is the free food. ( A little TOO much free food I think sometimes...but let's count the old blessings, shall we?) Often, I bring a banana with me in the morning and combine it with a bowl of cereal once I get to work. Usually I have Cheerios. One morning this week I poured myself a bowl and received a small shock as the first spoonful passed my lips. I said to the other staff and residents present, " Are these Cheerios stale...or are they healthy?" Funny how the two options seem to go hand in hand. One of the residents said in a sympathetically condemning tone, " They're OATIE-O's." Aaaaah.
I recently saw something on the news about how there was this taste-test done with various brands of food and beverages and how people who thought they had discriminating tastes actually preferred the generic or store brands to the big-name, higher priced brands when they were all unlabeled and mixed up together. Hmmm. I guess they didn't test Cheerios and Oatie-o's against each other...because I don't really think I have superior tastebuds. I think the difference would smite even the greatest dullard's palate. Inferior comestibles, indeed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
