After reading, re-reading, editing, a little bit of crying, worship to golden calves and bleeding dry some hens in my basement, I realize that this blog post isn’t that good, BUT I really wanted to make mention of my love for treats. Every day I try to do something nice for myself. Usually I fulfill this pledge to me Momez by getting a little treatskiedoodlepoodle. My desire to love mua (sexy) is usually muddled because I’ve just downed 300 calories worth of shit that’s going to make me tired, chubb..ier (I wanted a different suffix (y - implying I'm starting out all Barbie thin and shit)!!!) and the little money dings do add up. So maybe treats aren’t that good for me. But I want, no, NEED them! I like Mr. Jeckyll that shit and wake up in a cold sweat covered with Whatchamacallit wrappers TREATS!!!!
Never been a luncher muncher. Or breakfast for that matter. I really just love treats (anything sweet), snacks (anything savory) and dinner (please get inside me). Even as an adult I rarely get good lunch into me...my mouth. Almost every day I punish myself with a lean cuisine or healthy choice or chicken pot pie thing (anything cheap) – and ALWAYS scald the roof of my mouth because the part of my brain that controls my insatiable desire to inhale my aluminum tray processed meat treats thinks it’s the little girl that was interviewed on Oprah who can’t feel any form of pain and is constantly sticking her hand into the bonfire or spraying herself with fire extinguishers. Uh huh.
To compensate for the undeliciousness of my lunches I regularly get a colored mountain dew – because I'm white and from the suburbs – or something little and $1.19 from one of two gas stations next to my office building. If it’s raining or snowing or I’m feeling too lazy to walk far, I go next door. Their treats are meh at best. The store across the street doubles as a head shop so they have particularly wonderful treats to keep their stoner clientele happy. And Maria Momez! Funny thing is this store is ran by predominantly insane Christian young adults who blast horrible Xtian power ballad pop bullshit, an Asian chick who flat out doesn’t give a fuck about much, though she JUST finally stopped ID’ing me after a year of coming in once a week, and then the owner is a BMW driving Muslim dude who is forever stocking shelves. Weird mix. And they sell an array of Zigzags, pipes, shit with tye-dye all over it, bongs and other things I don’t understand.
I just don’t get it. So instead I get Cheetohs. MYOMYOMYOMMM I love empty calories! 420 4 lyfe - whatever that means!
There are some definite rules that govern the awesome that is treats.
TREATS are the umbrella. I love saying this word. It can be applied to like almost everything in the world, such as: candy treats (frosting on your cupcake), dog treats (bones and shit), gay sex treats (grape-flavored condoms – I think they use those), apocalypse treats (water, canned goods), vagina treats (tampons! nomnom) you get the idea.
TREATS are defined as the following:
should always be crazy delicious
something you crave and freak out for
almost always (by default) super bad for you (like Toxic Shock Syndrome…tampons are not delicious. I think.)
Bad Treat: Remember ants on a log? Fuck you if you like this. Because of you and the abundance of ant on a log supporters out there, I seriously had to miss out on snack day once a week in Montessori school. For those of you who are amazing and haven’t been tainted by this shit stick, it’s basically a stalk of celery (BARF), slathered with peanut butter in its little green canyon (BARF x 2) and then dotted with raisins (I’ve run out of barf and resorted to dry heaving - HEAVE) to resemble bug like creatures. What about this is supposed to make me hungry? My evil daytime captors not only starved me; they would also make us take naps. What I’m trying to say is my formative years fucking sucked. I get so mad thinking about these nasty things. FUCK! - not delicious, do not want to freak out over this, although peanut butter is not really that good for you, and probably has Salmonella in it at least 6 months out of the year, this shit is too healthy to get me salivating.
Good Treat: My great grandmother, Cuca (bless your heart – you’re such a total badass), lived with my grandparents, who we also lived with, when I was in 3rd / 4th grade. I may be white and from the suburbs, but I was still the minority in Cottage Grove. She regularly made these orange things. You cut a little hat off the orange – but fucking keep it (haha, but fucking), and then you scoop out the innards (this really does sounds like it’s about butt fucking) and throw them in a blender with some condensed milk (I like the sweet kind), blend it fucker, then pour it back into orange, cap it and put it in the freezer. Just think about this…doesn’t it sound beyond amazing?!? It is. So I would come home from school and there would be a whole slew of these to choose from. I had a similar thing at a bus stop in Spain and it was such an epic let down. My GGMA knows what’s up! - delicious, fuck yum fuck, where did I not mention sweetened, condensed milk?
See how this works???
Bad school snack. At the end of high school I was kind of an art room hermit. I think I spent at least 5 hours a day in there and only left to get a Gatorade or Fruitopia when my throat juices had expired. Oh – and remember in previous posts how I used to be popular (so weird and not making of the sense, but it does somehow), well a lot of those people had dropped off my radar, but for some reason I had a ton of big truck driving / cowboy gear wearing / muscle-bound hillbilly friends (if you do know me, you know that is not how I look or really the people I associate with, but they were fucking awesome and liked to make fun of shit with me so we bro’d down a lot!). Well I almost only got a Gatorade, UNLESS I stole lunch, which I did whenever I chose to eat at school. Because no one should have to pay 3 bucks for a square piece of pizza – hexagonal if it’s Mexican (!!!), or corn dog nuggets or whatever. My good girlfriend, Schmishmelle Shmarson, stole lunch every day, too, and taught me real good, especially when she was pregnant (she was a senior and in love…so it’s cool). She must have walked out with 10 bucks of crappy, fried food every day. And she’d share :) with the baby :(
So me and my brodawgs were sitting at our cool table talking about NASCAR or fat chicks or something I don’t know what, but I went to the line to go steal something (I had only stolen a Gatorade and was feeling a bit hungry – not pregnant, not pregnant) so I left my G-rade with them and spent a couple minutes at the line. I remember they were selling like chow mein and eggrolls that day – no Asian pizza (I imagine it would be circular and you could play Chinese checkers with the sausage). When I came back I sat and ate my corn nugget dog things not good for you (sort of good snack actually) and chugged my blue Gatorade. I noticed that the blue was a little darker than usual and it wasn’t until I was only one sip from finishing it that I noticed my redneck buddies were freaking out, dying laughing because they had put a shit ton of soy sauce in it. I guess..more electrolytes?
It’s called salt, people. Electrolytes are salt. Little did they know that salt is a snack and a snack is a TREAT and I go fucking gonzo for treats. So their attempt was a failure (until I had a stomach ache the rest of that afternoon). What the fuck is Soylent Green??? Basically, Gatorade with more salt is delicious! More ramen 4 president.
eat the treat DO IT DO IT DO IT
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