My roommate (aka Mother) is a bad influence. Today she feigned sickness to come home 2 hours earlier, and also plans to take tomorrow off with the same weird excuse
that her "bones ache." Sheesh, how am I ever suppose to learn good work habits with her in the house? Anyway since she was home early, we decided to go on a Shoprite run to buy foodstuffs for the upcoming soiree...
that her "bones ache." Sheesh, how am I ever suppose to learn good work habits with her in the house? Anyway since she was home early, we decided to go on a Shoprite run to buy foodstuffs for the upcoming soiree...The Bun Bash: a Party
shamelessly abusing the
"There's a Bun in the oven"
theme to the point of overkill
Saturday, Dec. 2 @ 1pm
...I love going to the grocery with Mother, especially nowadays when I get put whatever the hell I want in the cart, no questions asked!!! When we were a young family, Mother would keep us on a tight budget, not allowing us brand named frivolities. Instead of Coco Puffs, we would have Coco Comets. We played with Maxie in lieu of Barbie. And when we pleaded for Fruit Roll Ups, Mother brushed us off with the same dreaded word: "Someday..." This was a frequent occurrence:
Little Chewie: Mommy, can I have a Happy Meal?
Mother: Someday...
Little Chewie: Sad meal, sad meal.*
Soon all 4 of us grew up, and Mother began to indulge us with all of our childhood fancies. Oh joy and rapture unforeseen! Not only did we have Fruit Roll Ups, but our pantry usually contained at least 3 boxes of different flavors to accommodate each kid's preference. In the event that more than one of us were partial to Shockin' Rockin' Red Razzberry, Mother would even make sure to stock up to avoid sibling squabbles. This amazing development has turned into one of my worst vices, and I constantly have to hold myself back from buying Little Chewie cravings.
Sadly as I grew older, my body/taste buds drastically changed. I now know that I can't eat McDonald's without feeling a little bit woozy, and that Geno's pizza just doesn't taste as good as it did before. So today as walked through the cereal isle, I tried to ignore Little Chewie's fond memories of Fruity Pebbles, because I know I'd probably have one bowl, be disappointed and let the barely eaten box grow stale. And I hate wasting food.Little Chewie: But we rarely got to eat Fruity Pebbles back in the day. Sad meal, sad meal.
Yes, I know Little Chewie. This is the reason I can't wait for the next generation of Buns to arrive so I can spoil them silly with the hyperactive sugar filled food of my youth... and, of course, so I can once again relive a bowl of Fruity Pebbles with Little Chewie.
*Although all of this "depravity" is indeed true, I still believe I had the most rich and wonderful childhood experience. Thanks Parents!
1 comment:
I think us growing up within the confines of a tight budget was a good thing: I didn't necessarily long for food we couldn't afford, but I think my non-cool status in grade school (because I didn't carry a Louis Vuitton purse or wear Bass shoes or sport Benetton rugbies) made me a hell of a lot stronger and ready to crush the opposition with my searing intellect. Now, as an adult, I rarely take the Good Life for granted.
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