I'm interested in most phases of data processing

 

via glittergirl.

* * *

Guilty pleasures vol. three: Cool Whip

It would not have been difficult to prevent.

All I had to do was reach into the shopping cart and remove the offending tub in one definitive swoop. My husband (aka The Goat) had slipped it in there.

The Goat, at over six feet tall and composed mostly of muscle and goat fur, is entitled to such indulgences. Furthermore, he could eat buttered bacon every day of the week and it would not elevate his cholesterol. It's a little different for me (my cholesterol once clocked in over 350).

Nonetheless, I acted as if I didn't notice and now we have a tub of Cool Whip sitting in the fridge. What can I do?

First, I outwardly (and I daresay pathetically) protested (Cool Whip! You bought Cool Whip?) while covertly getting accustomed to the idea of it. The assimilation period quickly dissolved into wanting to dunk something into it (it's Cool Whip for chrissake).

Hello Keebler fudge striped cookie (pictured above).

While chewing same, I made the ill-advised decision to read the ingredient list, which I do not recommend. Stay instead, dear reader, within the soft soma-like cloud of don't-ask-don't-tell denial. Enjoy this "rich & creamy" treat in blissful ignorance and abandon this post now.

**spoiler alert**

This stuff is made with hydrogenated oil. It's not even partially hydrogenated. This is whole-hog hydrogenated. It's like the Titanic tanking in your aorta. On top of that, it's loaded with high fructose corn syrup. But perhaps my favorite ingredient is: "beta carotene (color)."

What?

Um, Kraft Foods? THIS SHIT IS WHITE.

None of this deterred me from eating the goddamn fudge-striped cookie/Cool Whip monstrosity (and the two that immediately followed), but a few days later I also creating a hellish "sundae" with vanilla ice cream, crushed pretzels, coffee syrup, dry-roasted peanuts and yes, a massive dollop of Cool Whip.

The worst part of it is that the Cool Whip will linger in my cabinet long after as its fatty particles have firmly attached themselves to the walls of my arteries. Being a Woman in Cleveland, I have to save the empty Cool Whip container, into which I will deposit leftover potatoes, sausage and sauerkraut to dispatch to my father-in-law, who will dutifully return the container to me.

Said too-good-to-throw-away container activity will continue for six to 12 months (or longer), until the lid suffers a massive injury (read: crack) and I can finally recycle it (although my mother has been known to use tinfoil to cover a still-good-enough-to-use Cool Whip container that has lost its lid--I have not advanced to this level yet).

And that of course brings me to the dreaded Bag Disease.

* * *

Guilty pleasures vol. one: Mark Dacascos

Guilty pleasures vol. two: I am ... I said

* * *

We was out in a machine

Consider a postcard:




Dear Father, We arrived here O.K. We was out in a machine all morning say talk about your times. From your Daughter Mabel

* * *

Well, Mabel, I've been out on a machine on Goat Island myself, but it wasn't near the Falls. Talk about your times, indeed.

I am a bit envious that you were able, Mabel, to enjoy the Falls before we ol' humans figgered out how to turn 'em on and off like a spigot. On the two occasions I visited the Falls, I only saw about half or one quarter as much water going over the Falls as you saw on your honeymoon (I'm assuming by the nearly intoxicated tone of your correspondence to dear old Dad that you were on your honeymoon).

Now think of this, had you and the new Mr. Mabel been able to keep your pants on until winter, you might not have been out in a machine, but walking around those frozen falls yourself!

I've read that back then, all manner of vendors would set up shop on the "ice bridge" and sell booze and baubles and general junk. All that stuff is still available nearby. They've got wax museums to boot.

As indicated by the adjacent photo, I am good at being stupid in the wax museums of Niagara Falls. That's me and a wax dummy in 2005. I am the one with the pinker skin and the hair in the bun.

So you and I have a few things in common. In addition to having both been on a machine on Goat Island and having vacationed in Niagara Falls, I also have really bad penmanship.

Nice meeting you, Mabel. If I'm ever near Ewington down there in Gallia County, I'll look you up. In the meantime, you and the mister have a real nice 100th anniversary.

Love, Erin