Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Thing 271 Variety Pack Feast

Decisions, decisions. Variety packs pretty much sum up my general indecisiveness. There's a whole range of emotional issues that come with your mom buying variety pack. Initially, there's happiness, because, after all, who doesn't love a variety pack eh? Then there's confusion: Which one of the eight options (seven if you discount the Cornflakes, which everyone does) will you choose. This quickly turns to frustration as your little brother hassles you to make a decision so he can snap up his favourite. Curse his decisive nature. Then there's relief when you finally choose the Coco Pops, tinged with regret that Thorny Wire is getting his grubby little mits on the Frosties. Then there's happiness again.

The variety pack is indeed an emotional journey.

Sometimes you just want it all...
That's it all there. It all being every single little cereal flake from the entire variety pack thrown into one large bowl. As an adult I reserve the right to have the things I always promised myself as a child. A thousand penny sweets. A day of cartoons from days of yore. Every single one of the variety packs in one go. No agonising over which one. No struggling with decisions. No Thorny Wire on my shoulder robbing the Frosties.
And I get to make a mess and no one will make me clean it up. I'll clean it if I want to. Which I do. Because I hate a messy house and all that. But still, if I wanted it to be messy I could have it that way.

The problem is, you really shouldn't always get what you want, and sometimes fulfilling that childhood dream is difficult and turns out to be a let down. Like when you get nauseous because you've just eaten eight boxes of cereal. It does tend to leave one feeling a little let down. I knew there was a reason mom wouldn't let me do this when I was a whippersnapper.
See. There's nausea for you. Pony Boy giggled like a child watching me. I think Little Flower was nauseous just watching me. There's few things that'll put you off your lunch like watching a fat slob stuffing his face. Childhoods ruined all round then.
Ate most of it though. Just the bits at the end were too soggy, and I was too stuffed and uncomfortable to drink the chocolate (kind of) milk. Turns out I'm not the complete fat slobby mess that everyone keeps telling me I am... joke's on you God Boy!!

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