Desperately seeking Monday night
I'm well into the bag when I notice the first two ingredients are sugar and corn syrup. Oh no, not again. But sometimes things can't be helped.
What can I say, people will eat anything that's left in our office kitchen. This is how I know that squid-flavored treats from the Philippines are truly rank.
I'm eating Cracker Jack (www.crackerjack.com/home.htm). It's left over from a going away party we had at the office with a baseball theme. Ever since, I have spotted popcorn husks and caramel bits everywhere, even in the restroom. Perhaps someone didn't want to share.
Some well-meaning colleague actually suggested the leftover bags should go to the children of fellow employees. Ha! The Cracker Jack was snatched up in seconds.
My feeling is that adults need this kind of sustenance more than children do anyway.
So I'm about to demolish a bag of this stuff. It is a large bag, much bigger than the small boxes I remember from my girlhood. I feel only the slightest twinge of guilt as the sailor boy mascot and his little dog smile at me from the bag.
But then I think, hey, this isn't good for children. One bag I eat is one less bag a child eats. Children should be eating vegetables, fruit, and protein.
Besides, I deserve this bag of Cracker Jack. Children don't have to do budgets or review strategic plans. And I'm old enough to make my own mistakes.
Anyway, it's just 120 calories per serving. Of course, the official serving size is one-half cup, the approximate serving size for a guppie. Not a full grown woman trying to make it through another afternoon at work with wide-open eyes and a big bounce in her step.
Give me sugar or give me sleep.
It's simply not possible to eat just one-half cup. I'll tell you why. Eating Cracker Jack is addictive; it sets up a pernicious dynamic you are powerless to stop. The large popcorn puffs give you only a mild and fleeting sugary sensation. So you seek out the tasty peanuts--the big sugar bling--in the bag. You are rewarded with a peanut every 10 or so pieces of unsatisfying popcorn.
So you dig deeper, faster, trying to get at the cache of peanuts. They just happen to be at the bottom of a bag that says it provides 3.5 servings. Before you know it, you have generated a mote of caramel bits around your chair. Your keyboard is sticky. You close your office door because there is something unseemly about an adult digging around a large bag of Cracker Jack, like a bear pawing through a campsite food box.
What can I say, people will eat anything that's left in our office kitchen. This is how I know that squid-flavored treats from the Philippines are truly rank.
I'm eating Cracker Jack (www.crackerjack.com/home.htm). It's left over from a going away party we had at the office with a baseball theme. Ever since, I have spotted popcorn husks and caramel bits everywhere, even in the restroom. Perhaps someone didn't want to share.
Some well-meaning colleague actually suggested the leftover bags should go to the children of fellow employees. Ha! The Cracker Jack was snatched up in seconds.
My feeling is that adults need this kind of sustenance more than children do anyway.
So I'm about to demolish a bag of this stuff. It is a large bag, much bigger than the small boxes I remember from my girlhood. I feel only the slightest twinge of guilt as the sailor boy mascot and his little dog smile at me from the bag.
But then I think, hey, this isn't good for children. One bag I eat is one less bag a child eats. Children should be eating vegetables, fruit, and protein.
Besides, I deserve this bag of Cracker Jack. Children don't have to do budgets or review strategic plans. And I'm old enough to make my own mistakes.
Anyway, it's just 120 calories per serving. Of course, the official serving size is one-half cup, the approximate serving size for a guppie. Not a full grown woman trying to make it through another afternoon at work with wide-open eyes and a big bounce in her step.
Give me sugar or give me sleep.
It's simply not possible to eat just one-half cup. I'll tell you why. Eating Cracker Jack is addictive; it sets up a pernicious dynamic you are powerless to stop. The large popcorn puffs give you only a mild and fleeting sugary sensation. So you seek out the tasty peanuts--the big sugar bling--in the bag. You are rewarded with a peanut every 10 or so pieces of unsatisfying popcorn.
So you dig deeper, faster, trying to get at the cache of peanuts. They just happen to be at the bottom of a bag that says it provides 3.5 servings. Before you know it, you have generated a mote of caramel bits around your chair. Your keyboard is sticky. You close your office door because there is something unseemly about an adult digging around a large bag of Cracker Jack, like a bear pawing through a campsite food box.
posted by sugarfiend @ 1:39 PM
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