Showing posts with label joking about inappropriate things. Show all posts
Showing posts with label joking about inappropriate things. Show all posts

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Kashi Go Lean Crunch Cereal: The New Musical Fruit

If you do not think that passing gas is funny, then this is not the blog post for you.  You have my permission to go here instead and do responsible, grown-up things like checking stock prices.

.....

Okay, if you're still reading, I'm going to presume you're like me and twelve year old boys:  We all think that farting is funny.

I've been trying to eat healthier.  I've gained five pounds since starting my new job because all I do is sit at a desk, work, and snack.  "I don't understand it," I complained as I scarfed down bags of M&M's and destroyed some double-stuff Oreos.  "Why am I gaining so much weight?"


I bought a big box of Kashi Go Lean Crunch cereal in an attempt to not become a giant quivering pile of Jello, because you all know how I feel about exercising.

"It's healthy!"  I thought.  "It even has the word lean in the name!   This plan can't go wrong."

(insert evil laugh here)

Little did I know that Kashi Go Lean Crunch would better be named Big Tasty Bowl of Toots.  The first day I ate a huge bowl for breakfast.  Two hours later, almost to the dot, I had gas.  Horrible gas.  Like, quivering-to-hold-it-in-because-I'm-at-work-and-turns-into-one-minute-farts-when-I-can-let-it-out gas.  Luckily on the stinkiness factor, it was oddly odorless.    

Stupid me, I didn't make the connection the first day.  So I ate a huge bowl the next day.  The same thing happened.  I'm fairly certain my officemates hate me now, and I don't even have a dog handy to blame it on.

By the third day I started to figure out something was wrong.  My husband was worried about me and feared I was getting an ulcer because I would complain of a stomachache every afternoon (which sounds better than saying my colon hurts).

Mmmm!  Now with more flatuence!

I stopped eating the cereal, and lo and behold, my flatulence problem disappeared.  I've googled it and apparently it's quite a common problem.  There are web pages and blog entries like this one devoted to telling the story of Kashi:  The New Musical Fruit.  There are people who thought they had a serious medical condition until they found out that no, it's just their cereal.  There's one woman who describes how in attempt to be healthy, she ate a huge bowl and then went to her first yoga class.  Hilarity ensued.

The worst part about it is that it's quite tasty.  I would have happily used it as a snacking food along with eating it for breakfast.   I've even tried eating half a bowl, hoping that if I started off with small amounts, my body would get used to it.  My body most vehemently did not get used to it. 
 
When I told my family about this, they all 1) wanted to try it and 2) wanted me to give some to my brother.

Wait, what?  I guess it's like the reaction when you try something so horrible that you just have to share it--the "here, try this, it's gross" factor.

As for the second part, the males of my family are pretty naturally gaseous.  I grew up thinking that guys farted all the time.  Giving Kashi to my brother, Meat, would be like adding gasoline to a fire.  A very stinky fire.

Some people blame the chicory root, others the soy powder, and still others the vast amounts of fiber.  Whatever it is, I know that I shall no longer be eating Kashi Go Lean cereal.  I will close with this aptly appropriate link to an SNL commercial for a cereal called "Colon Blow".   

I guess it's back to double-stuffed Oreos for me.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Lawyer friends.





Calling my friend Shortstuff:  
 
Me:  Hey girl!

Shortstuff:  Hey Bee!  I was just thinking about you.

Me:  Awww, that's sweet. 

Shortstuff:  Yeah, I'm getting the paperwork together to write up your will and your durable power of attorney forms in case of a health emergency.  So really I was just thinking about you in a coma or dead.

Me:  ...

Shortstuff:  Sorry, was that creepy?

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Self referential.

Me, after putting on a new outfit:  I look like a hooker.  But I'm okay with it because at least I look like an expensive hooker.  Not the type that hang out on street corners, but the ones who do business out of nicer hotel bars.   


Batman:  ...if I had a blog, I would write that in it.


 This is an example of street corner hookerware.  I was not wearing this*.


*If you're wondering what I was wearing, it was a skirt, sandals, and a strapless top.  I only looked slightly hookerish.  Hookeresque?  There needs to be a better adjective made out of the word "hooker".