Let me just preface this post by saying that if the cookies promise no fat and no sugar, there's probably a catch. And that catch is that you will spend your entire evening with an internal combustion engine set loose in your colon.
Yes, I have been fooled by a consumer product once again and fooled in a most profound, can't-sleep-at-night, to-the-core-of-one's-being way. I discovered this seemingly innocent little snack cookie at the Giant last night, a little frilly treasure that has about four or five names, depending on how you interpret the packaging. That should have been my first clue for you can't really complain to the proper authorities about a violent assault on your person if you can't properly describe the culprit.
I've concluded that the cookies are more than likely known as "Heavenly Desserts" (ironic, gaggable, and not-so-vaguely Christian at the same time) and are manufactured by a company called "D-Liteful" (oh look, how cute, the hyphen takes the place of the letters "e-v-i"). They are "The Original Sugar-Free Fat-Free Meringues" with "New! Improved Flavors" (is that even grammatical?), with "Zero g Net Impact Carbs per Serving" (I'll be the judge of how much impact those carbs have, thank you), sweetened with Splenda®, "NO PRESERVATIVES" (because, frankly, nothing, not even a year's supply of Imodium® mixed into a colon-clogging paste with some Turtle Wax® is going to save you from the abyss), in vanilla, chocolate, lemon, cappuccino and something called "New Strawberry" (which is apparently located somewhere south of Old Strawberry and not too far from Strawberry Center).
I've also determined that eating more than a few of these is the equivalent of setting off a Molotov Cocktail with a Handgrenade Chaser in your lower intestine. I'm not sure why anyone would ever want to do that. Even the kids on an episode of Jackass were never quite that stupid 'cause everyone--but me--apparently knows that clobbering yourself in the family jewels with a 2 x 4 is far saner and more pleasureable than downing too many of these "Hellishly Deserted" treats.
I could blame it on the fact that I accidentally picked up a box of chocolate instead of vanilla or strawberry, which is what I really wanted. Or I could blame it on my own gluttony. Satan's shortbreads were so light and airy, so cheery and fanciful, I just figured what the hell, you're hungry, eat a lot of 'em (but not all of 'em), with no sugar and fat, what problems could Lucifer's little snickerdoodles cause you?
* * *
[
[Ring, ring]
"Hallo? Ja, this is Doctor Faustus. Oh, it's you Herr Beelzebub! How nice of you to call."
[Indistinct murmuring]
"Yes, I did receive the cookies. How thoughtful of you to send them. I thought they were delicious."
"Oh, they signify that my contract is up and payment is due in full? But Herr Beelzebub, I thought that I had more--I'm sorry, Herr Beelzebub, but can I call you back in just a few? My stomach has suddenly become violently ill . . . ."
[Maniacal laughter]
I'll spare you the South Park-ian details, the screams, cries, whimpers, groans, deals with God--any God, heck, any dog for that matter--and grotesqueries that emanated from my guest bathroom from around 9 to 11 pm and then every two hours overnight, even with the assistance of Janitor-in-a-Drum-strength medicaments.
But in the clear light of day, with the tears wiped away from my eyes and the toilet bowl scrubbed clean, I now do know whom to blame: The morons who overdesigned the packaging and decided that a helpful bit of information like this--
"EXCESSIVE CONSUMPTION MAY HAVE A LAXATIVE EFFECT"
--doesn't warrant more prominent play.
I'm sorry, the use of quotation marks around the words "excessive" and "laxative effect" doesn't draw any more attention to the message, nor make it easier to, pardon me, digest. You can put 6-point Helvetica in all caps, but at the end of the day, it's still 6-point Helvetica.
Now, when it comes to marketing, I'm no 1970s-era Soviet Bloc Country with an overabundance of poorly executed, highly flammable baby clothes ready for export. I get how giving that kind of information more significant billing, no matter how essential to a satisfactory consumer experience, might have a detrimental effect on sales, not to mention the consumer's overall health and well-being.
But then it begs this question: How in the hell did some radical terrorist cell invade the baking industry in Medley, Florida, (even the corporate headquarters sounds perky!) and create these little jihad-flavored weapons of mass destruction?
Or if it's not a terrorist-themed plot to put us all on the crapper while crazed fundamentalists take control of our society and once we come out, come out wherever we are--weary, weak-kneed, and desperate for clean knickers--make us wear dour clothing, write backwards, and stick us with a Before Common Era understanding of human behavior and psychology (thus, the fundamentalists could be Islamic or Christian--they both basically have the same goal, anyway), then why oh why would any sane person create such a sphincter-blowing experience for human consumption?
For pity's sake, I know we all like to overindulge, and perhaps I'm just getting my comeuppance (in through the out door, as it were) for eating twenty of the thirty "pieces" (like it's a dadblasted board game! Operation for your undercarriage! Chutes and Ladders for your poopchute!) in the box. But bloody hell, the box only weighs 1.6 ounces! How could such a lightweight, innocent-looking, sweetly designed cookie made of two parts eggwhites, one part whimsy, and one part wuv-flavored meringue (not burlap, not steel wool, not pine bark, but *meringue*) wreak so much havoc on one person's digestive system?
I know this is more than you ever wanted to know about *my* digestive system, but still, for those of you who saw me today, it should explain a lot about my generally discombobulated state and why I disappeared every couple of hours in search of saltines, herbal tea, and grilled cheese.
*Groan.*
Maybe fewer dietary shortcuts and more exercise are the answer. Heaven(ly Desserts) knows, there's got to be a more sensible approach to weight loss than swallowing twenty small, live mortar rounds and letting them clear a wide path to freedom through your large and small intestines.
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