First, I have to say that I love you. Seriously. I love you all hard. Thank you for signing up yesterday. I was beyond touched. I have a post about it, but seriously, you guys made me cry.
I still need more help and people to sign up here for the pre-pre-order of my book. Just names and email addresses, really, so that I can dazzle publishers and show that really, I do have people who’d buy my book. But thank you, Pranksters. Thank you. I owe you all a big bottle of vodka and some sloppy wet kisses. If we manage to pull this off, drinks are on me.
I might be a little obsessive, Pranksters.
Okay, stop laughing. Seriously, stop laughing. It’s not funny. Okay, it’s really funny. Because anyone who knows me well knows that the minute that I get an idea in my head, I can’t get it out until it’s done. One look at my orchid collection (which will kick YOUR orchid’s ass) will tell you that.
I’d be an awesome Evil Drug Overlord* if I had any desire to be evil, because I’d stop at nothing until I was, well, full of The Evil and I owned most of the Midwest. But anyway. My desire for evil is about equal to my desire to listen to Michael Bolton albums, which is to say that I don’t really want either. MUCHLY.
My desire for deliciously filled sandwiches with the crusts cut off, though, knows no bounds. You might be thinking, “Now, Aunt Becky, you’re 29 years old. What would you want with a product designed for 6 year olds?”
And that is where I would point out that you’d never had a clearly crack-filled Uncrustables. Which are as close to heaven in a neat, frozen package as I can find, EVEN if they sound like a rare STD**.
Sunday-Sunday-Sunday, rather than watching a monster truck rally, I set out on a mission to find me some Uncrustables. Clear over on the other side of town, I figured I’d simply POP into another grocery store and nab some more.
NOT SO, Little Butterfly. It was not to be. They didn’t have my Peanut Butter Filled treats. I nearly cried. Only the PB and & J filled ones, which, I’m sorry, I don’t think so.
Grimly I drove to grocery store number two, joking with The Daver and the two small kids who weren’t thrilled to be along for the ride that “Heh-heh, Mommy is SO SILLY!” They didn’t look amused. I wasn’t amused when I realized that the second grocery store didn’t CARRY the damn things for the love of sweet baby Jesus. THEN, to soothe my son, I had to drop $12 on a balloon arrangement. Because he’s 2 and balloons and red Solo cups are his obsession and really, I can’t deny him that.
Surely the THIRD grocery store would have my delicious, delicious Uncrustables! Why, I nearly pictured the boxes of neat little sandwiches and I running down the beach together, hand in, well, sandwich, laughing and playing, before I ate them.
My dreams fizzled into an audible pop as I realized the store did, yet again, NOT carry the brand that I wanted no NEEDED. Sadly, dejectedly, I walked back to my mini-van and faced up to my fate: I’d have to go back to Target yet again.
Dave said the words no one should say to someone who is obsessive: “Maybe they discontinued the plain peanut butter ones.” He might as well have said, “Maybe you should stop breathing for awhile.” I cried a little.
Once the kiddies were firmly ensconced in their wee beds, I took the first opportunity I could to run out to Target. And, as the lot of you told me that Target is also YOUR boyfriend, I should warn you to get tested for VD. We don’t use protection.
I nearly ran to the frozen food aisle, pushing aside little old ladies and strollered children, and finally, finally, it was like the light of heavens opened up and shone upon me. There they were: my savory morsels of peanut buttery-goodness.
Before anyone in the vacant aisle could rush up and elbow me out of the way, I quickly shoved them all in my cart and furiously ran to the front of the store to check out. I dared anyone to look sideways at the 8 boxes of Uncrustables in my cart because I would have run them down without hesitation.
If the checkout girl was surprised to see a grown woman with a cart full of children’s food, she said nothing. I half-expected a manager to come by and try and stop me from buying them out of plain Uncrustables, but no, nothing like that happened. I happily walked out of Target with my bag of loot, grinning vacantly like the simpleton that I am.
And they were worth it. Every single bite.
*Heh-Heh. I am TOTALLY kidding, Mr. (OR Mrs.) DEA Agent. Drugs are for LOSERS. The DARE Program taught me WELL.
**By that sentence alone, you should know, Mrs (or Mr.) FTC Agent, that I was not paid to say this.
I am over at Toy With Me talking about things people stick up their, uh, YOU KNOW. Yeah, I know, it’s weird and awkward. But I actually SAW this stuff as a nurse! It’s REALLY not safe for work.