- the horror
(wardrobe provided by sharing machine)
I am not nearly as cool as Emotion Eric (check out his donut face), but I've been told that I make very odd facial expressions without knowing it. Once while walking in the West Village one of my friends pointed out some young kids and apparently I screwed up my face in such a way that would've made more sense if "some young kids" was secret code for "a pile of rotting rat carcasses dipped in sewage and stuffed in sheep stomachs". I think she was exaggerating though...
"ROBYN, your face is hiliarious!" [points at my hilarious face]
"But...I didn't do anything!"
"Yeah you did, your face was like"—[imitates my face, does not look so hot]
"WAS NOT, WAS NOOOOT."
"What is it with you and kids?"
"NOTHING, I LOVE DEM KIDZZZ...wait, what's that OH MY GOD, TINY PEOPLE."
Anyway, as I was saying...actually, I wasn't saying anything.
I couldn't get the right look of horror on my face while staring at the half pound chocolate bunny of doom. If you can tell me what emotion I'm trying to convey, your prize will be that you will not have to eat this chocolate bunny. Let me explain.
If you zoom into the photo (and god knows you want a good look at that zit on my face; yes, the reign of inexplicably clear skin is over), you'll see that the bunny is described as "Milk Chocolate Flavored". Flavored is the key word here. Milk chocolate flavored? What the f...time to look at the ingredients.
- partially hydrogenated vegetable oil (palm kernel and/or palm)
- skim milk
- soy lecithin (an emulsifier)
- artificial flavors
- and may containt peanuts/nuts
Oh. My god. What is this monstrosity? This bunny-shaped, 1200 calorie partially hydrogenated oil sugar brick? The only thing protecting me from the brick is a micron-thick (well, not a micron, but work with me here) of plastic wrap. We need to wrap this in something a little more substantial, and then shoot it into space so that aliens have more reason to destory the human race.
Why do I have such an abomination in my possession? My roommate went to a friend's house for Easter and came back with too much candy. "This chocolate bunny weighs half a pound—here, you take it!" I obliged because I like chocolate and it was a nice gesture, I think. But this isn't chocolate! This is...(turns package over)...Dutchtown Novelties' way of destroying all that is good in the world of real chocolate bunnies that are not parading around as merely milk chocolate "flavored". Also, I think they want to make me cry.
I know I eat a lot of crap, but I have my limits. I'd eat some kind of heart clogging hydrogenated chocolate bar full of caramel and crispy things and nuts if it were delicious enough, but plain "chocolate"? NOT WORTH IT. I wouldn't even feed that to my enemies.
So, my dear bunny, frolicking in drug-induced purple grass with drug-induced smiling flowers—into the trash you go.
(Note: If you like this chocolate bar, that's fine with me. God knows I'm not one to knock people who eat junk food.)
Check out my designated website of the day/century: Pimp My Snack (via Candy Addict). It's disgustingly excessive, enough to repel any normal human, but my god, it's genius. If you can't look at everything, at least check out the Monster Jammie Dodger (I heart Jammie Dodgers!) and it's beautiful splodge design. The writing is hilarious (ohh, those Brits), and the photos are ...well, scary. The taste of paradise versus the taste of pimpadise, anyone? Even though just looking at that pimped Bounty makes my stomach turn, I'd still want to eat a chunk of it. Because I'm a moron.
A random question for readers!: Anyone here from Sweden? Or Stockholm? Or familiar with it? I might visit there with Rebecca. Might. Because. Why not? Yeah? We don't know Swedish, but we figure that'll be okay.
My roommate asked me if I ate the chocolate bunny. I'm just going to keep saying no until she forgets. Ha ha ha. SHe's rather health conscious, so I'd be surprised if she didn't look at the label and think, "...Um." Then again, I've seen empty boxes of Entenmann's cookies in the trash. (I think overall she must eat healthier than I do. I suck.)
She gave me a fun sized pack of M&Ms, surely tastier than the brick-of-trans-fat bunny. I have a bone to pick (where did that phrase come from?) with anything called "fun sized" though—IT'S A LIE. If anything, it's the opposite of fun and should be renamed, "so small it makes you wanna kill yourself"-sized. All these tiny packets do is leave you unsatisfied and increase rubbish in landfills when you open 20 fun-sized packets of M&Ms. What would be fun-sized is if you got a giant tub and filled it with candy, then romped around in it like in those brightly colored ball rooms for kids. Remember how frickin' fun those were?! My god, we need to bring those back for adults. That, and inflatable bounce castles. If there was a gym whose facilities consisted soley of ball rooms and bounce castles, I'd buy a membership, and then after making a crapload of money from as-of-now-unknown-career, I'd buy the gym.
Dude, you'd so go to my gym.
Oh, the M&Ms! I haven't eaten those in ages; they're quite good. A gajillion Americans can't be that wrong, I guess. Strangely, they only came in green, blue, and yellow. Surely if I had a regular sized packet, the odds would've been in my favor that I would receive more than three kinds of food coloring. Just like the term "fun-sized", the five colors advertised on the package are also a lie. This candy is full of deception, I tell you.
I consumed it in 0.08543 seconds.
I also ate a lot of this bread.
ADDENDUM: I DO NOT KNOW WHY THE HOLES ARE SQUARE. Square yeast? Um. no.
This ends your pointless update of the day. I think I have, like, homework to do or something, because last time I checked I was still in college. They haven't kicked me out yet.