Let me clue you in

Alright, I want to clue you guys in on a couple of things. I’ve had to question some shit lately. I’ve run into some stuff that’s really given me some legit concern for you people. I don’t qualify because I would never in a million fucking years partake.

I’m out shopping earlier this week and I run across these potato chips called ‘Turkey and Stuffing’ and their counterpart ‘Pumpkin Pie’. It’s not the first time that I have heard of this nastiness. The first time I remember hearing about it was a commercial for Trader Joe’s advertising their brand, called ‘Thanksgiving Leftovers’.  I’ll admit that there was a smidge of curiosity about what these little MSG bombs might taste like, but it ended there. A fleeting moment of weakness where I succumbed to the white trash side of myself that comes out every once in a while; the one that tells me that a flocked Christmas tree is fancy and canned ham for the holidays is the same as spiral cut as long as you put the pineapple rings on top with cherries and cloves in it.

I began to think about where to draw the line with these chips. How many times can you eat these before actually shaming yourself into hiding? The answer is once. I’m a scientific gal - I’m a fan of research and development, and I often say that I’ll try anything once [applies to food and most sports only, don’t get disgusting ya freaks] so, with that in mind, it seems fair to be open minded about these diabetes inducing trailer park ninja stars. I’m not going anywhere near them, that’s not where I’m going with this. I’m certain that eating one serving will knock 12 years off my life expectancy and I want to be around to see acid washed jeans make a comeback. Once they do, you can be sure to find me on my front porch in those jeans eating a bag of Turkey Stuffing chips and sipping a Pabst Blue Ribbon through a straw that will be resting comfortably in the space where my bottom four teeth should be. I might even be sporting a side pony tail, you just never know.

Walking around the grounds at my new condo complex I was tickled to find a sign affixed to the pool gate that basically stated that if you had the runs in the last two weeks, your filthy ass couldn’t be in the pool. Where do I even begin? Clearly it happened at some point or it wouldn’t be a rule, right? Wonder how that went down. I would have loved to have been there for that one. Sure, it’s fucking nasty, but it’s also a pool and it’s got a lot of room to disperse. People freak the hell out and go ape shit. Pun was unintentional there and I almost went back and deleted it, but decided against it. We are, in fact, talking about shit. Can you picture the faces of horrified parents grabbing their children and screeching [maybe even puking] indignant, like their child has never shit their diapers in public and stunk up a restaurant?  As if somehow we don’t know that they too pee in the pool all the goddamn time?? The next thought I had though was: is there a booty police? Who monitors the rawness of your anus before entering the pool? Do we have to swear on the Bible that we haven’t had diarrhea within the last two weeks or on the souls of loved ones? I’m for real curious. Is it just an honor system?

I have never claimed to be a balanced individual – these are just the things that swim around in my head. If you eat the above mentioned chips more than once, which should be purely out of curiosity, you are part of the problem. If you shit in pools, you are the problem! I’ll leave you with one last thought. I was talking with a friend about what would happen in the event a pool should “accidentally” fill with shit. I’m grabbing the snorkel gear and going for everyone’s ankles. That’s my shade of crazy. Have a nice night folks. Thanks for reading.