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Good going Nabisco. Thanks a whole heap! Way to be handy.

Issue Date: Wednesday, Sept. 12, 2007

Okay, do you guys remember (Do you hate it when I start an entry with “okay”, “anyway” or “so” like we were just in the middle of a conversation?... tell me, and be honest. I can handle the truth, really.) when I was doing all that vegetarian bullshit and my cholesterol went from... well... it’s still off the charts, but my triglycerides went from 464 to 600 or something. Member that? No? Well, I just told you about it. Anyway, somehow in the interim I found myself eating what I affectionately referred to as gruel in the mornings at work.

Gruel = cream of rice made with soy milk and brought to the consistency of lava in the break room microwave.

By the way, totally tried to link to the cream of rice site. But um... when you search the term “cream of rice” it actually comes back with, “You searched the term cream of rice.”

And that’s it.

Good going Nabisco. Thanks a whole heap! Way to be handy.


So I had my little torrid love affair going on with the cream of rice. I was all, “mmm carbs.” And that was it. It was like my brain was the equivalent of the search engine. Krafty. No?

See what I did there? (This was totally funnier when I thought the fucking cream of rice was from Kraft. Might explain the whole “You searched the term cream of rice.” Shut up.)

But after six weeks my fat ass was tired of cream of rice. When I found out that my triglycerides actually shot (the mother fucker) up 136 points while I was not eating any dairy, tofu was my main diet... and I couldn’t eat cheese y’all. CHEEEESE. But all of that was for naught. Cheeseless for six weeks. I need a medal. I need a plaque. But nooooooo my triglycerides were all, “Hey, watch this shit. SIX HUNDRED!” So I stopped with the vegetarianism. I got on Crestor and Omacor and now I eat cheese. Go ahead, try and take my cheese away again.

Meat? Who cares about meat?... CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESE.

I have an unhealthy relationship with cheese. I give, and I give... and all he does is make me feel bad about myself and calls my momma names. That cheese, he’s a real heart breaker.

The other Friday night Mister and I went to Kroger after browsing the aisles of the local Hollywood Video. We were surprised that the Kroger would be open at 10:30 p.m., much less as the door proclaimed, “until 1 a.m.!”, but I was even more surprised that my party animal husband was awake past 9 p.m. So, to me it was like a freaking holiday.

We went into the Kroger, bought all sorts of stuff to have over the weekend and the coming week. We had big plans for grilling, cooking, making stews and having bratwursts on the grill with chips and breakfast food and shit. So I actually missed having my gruel. So I picked up a box of it and some soy milk.

We went to go check out with our cartload of food and there was one normal line with a checker and several self-check out lines open. We had a CART FULL so we decided against the whole self-check thing as I was sure it would red-light us for all of the questionable produce and cereals we were carrying. So we decided that we’d go to the normal check out person.

Normal check out person was in a 15 items or less lane. It wasn’t normally the kind of lane with the big ass sign hanging from the ceiling “IF YOU HAVE OVER 15 ITEMS THE MANGER WILL KICK YOUR ASS”. This was more of a hastily grabbed from a “this lane closed” sign and thrown into the middle of the lane with a “15 items only” handwritten piece of paper stuck to the front. The person checking out in front of us had a cart full as well, and the light on the cash register said “open” so we skirted the sign and waited until the dude in front of us was through.

The charming register girl, Channing (was her name), saw us emptying our cart onto the belt to be checked out and as she rolled her heavily lined eyes she yelled to some guy that looked like he was dog paddling around in the shallow end of the gene pool, “Hey (mumbled guy’s name), your sign didn’t work.”

I looked at Mister. He raised an eyebrow. I turned to Channing, “Channing... we have a cart load of groceries, we do not want to check out at the self check out aisle....” I paused to let her fill in the gap. What I left unsaid was, “You are the only bitch checking people out. Do your job and stop with the handwritten sign shit. I am sure you could call one of the twenty restocking guys on the floor to come help you check and bag if you needed to.” She was all, “No, that’s cool. I don’t have a checker, so one of you is going to have to help me out.”

I looked at Mister, he raised both eyebrows and said, “You can call one of the restocking guys to help you bag. You are open until 1 am. Actually, would you please call your manager over?” Channing charmingly replied, “There isn’t a manager here. There’s an assistant, I think but he’s in the back, and besides, I was supposed to get off at 11.”

I looked at the wall mounted clock, 11:02 p.m. Hmmm little Miss Channing was very late for something important. But I was okay with her staying a few minutes later with her customers as her employer was open another two hours and I am pretty sure she couldn’t actually get pregnant sliding grocery items across a laser check out thingy. (Just doing my civic duty.) But Mister? Was pissed.

I quietly went around to the end of the lane and started bagging my own shit... slowly.

Fuck you. I don’t work at Kroger.

But I didn’t want to just stand there as there was another person in line behind us with a massive cart, filled to the brim, which fairly screamed “I am having a party!” or “A small family of nonindigenous Druids have recently moved into my pantry.” So I wanted to get out of her way. She didn’t pick this evening to watch an after school special of “Why Channing now has a size 13.5 tennis shoe up her ass.”

Mister was polite, really, considering the circumstances. But we did leave there without our toilet paper. My fault... I would never make it at Kroger. Pipe dreams... SHOT DOWN!

So. Yeah, the point. Two Saturdays past I am awake before 9 a.m. because we had some shit to do... like sitting around on our asses and taking a nap by 11 a.m. I decided that I wanted some gruel and Mister was in for some of his nasty ass Strawberry and Cream Quaker Oats Oatmeal (::full body shudder::). I don’t care who you are. That stuff smells like a candle would taste. A bad candle.

So there we are, all cute, sleepy eyed with our socks all floppy around the ends of our feet, rumpled t-shirts and boxers... yawning. Mister started the tea kettle to boil the water, I got down two bowls, two spoons and our boxes of warm cereal. Mine was still closed and as Mister was tearing open his packets I slid a knife into the top of my cream of rice box to easily open the perforated chevron thingy to be able to pour my stuff into my bowl. As we stood side by side pouring our stuff into the bowls I noticed that my cream of rice was strangely lumpy. A moment later a small brown moth shook off some dry cream of rice from his wings, took flight from my bowl and flew past my right eye.

I looked at Mister with the “Did you see that shit or am I trippin?” look on my face. He knows me and answered (I am sure to assure my sanity), “Yes, I did see that. Now, where did that fucker go?”

We looked for the moth for a few moments then told Max his job was to bring that stowaway to justice. The cat did not take his job very seriously as he sees himself as the high prince to whom all must bow... and pet him with Kleenex.

I picked up a lump from the bowl and washed the dried cream of rice off of it and sure enough it was a casing of some sort.


I picked up the phone and called Nabisco.

Useless Nabisco Guy: Hello, my name is Jonathan, may I help you?
me: Well, sure, Jonathan. I hope so... ya see, I have one of your products here...
Useless Nabisco Guy: Which product ma’am?
me: The cream of rice.
Useless Nabisco Guy: The Spanish one?
me: Whatever, I don’t know. It says Cream of RICE on the box... following me here?
Useless Nabisco Guy: Yes ma’am.
me: Right, so, it’s Saturday morning. And I am thinking to myself. “Self? What would be better than some cream of rice?” And myself answered, “Nothing.”
Useless Nabisco Guy: .... ?
me: So I was opening up this nice new box of the cream of rice while I was boiling the water, I poured some of the product into a bowl and a freaking moth flew out of my bowl, Jon.
Useless Nabisco Guy: A... moth?
me: Yes, a little extra surprise that I am sure wasn’t pleasant for either of us.
Useless Nabisco Guy: You and...?
me: The moth Jon.
Useless Nabisco Guy: Would you mind holding for a moment please ma’am?
me: Wouldn’t mind a bit Jon, have all the time in the world. Phone call isn’t getting in the way of breakfast, that’s for sure...
Useless Nabisco Guy: Riiiight... be right back.

As I was humming along to hold music I realized that Jon was either A) laughing his ass off or B) trying to find the appropriate script to read back to me over the phone. Jon took about 45 seconds to find the appropriate script.

He addressed my quandary.

Useless Nabisco Guy: Ma’am?
me: Yes, Jon?
Useless Nabisco Guy: As Nabisco stands, we store all of our products and each one is routed through quality control eleventy hundred and eight million times. When the products leave our factories and go to the retail stores we have no control over how or where the product is stored. Sometimes.... (and he rattled on for about two minutes about bugs getting into food... but not on their watch BY GUM!)... and we apologize for this inconvenience and would like to send you a refund.”
me: A refund?
Useless Nabisco Guy: Yes ma’am.
me: You mentioned storage facilities Jon, by the UPC code on this box will you tell me at which facility this product was stored?
Useless Nabisco Guy: I wouldn’t be able to do that ma’am.
me: Wouldn’t? Or couldn’t?
Useless Nabisco Guy: Couldn’t ma’am.
me: Sure Jon, sure.
Useless Nabisco Guy: May I have you address so that I may send the refund?

So laughingly I gave him my address, expecting a check in the amount of like $1.99 to show up... NEVER. But I was surprised. As Monday a check from Nabisco arrived for $1.89 to be used for the purchase of Cream of Rice.

I don’t think I’m gonna get another box of that shit. Do you?

Oh, and I totally sealed the box in a Ziploc bag and then three days later when the moth flew out from behind Mister’s chair and he caught the little fucker, he was placed in the bag as well.

Maybe I’ll take it back to Channing this Friday night around 11 p.m., see if she can give me a store credit or exchange it for some Oreo’s or something.


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To understand this dear reward (above) at all, you must hie thee on and read gatsby’s grape ape entry and my comments.

And because of said comments he sent me my very own dream turtle in an email titled wee gift with these words attached, “my purple monkey is booked solid so i ordered you a tangerine turtle. hope he proves helpful.”

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