I love proletariat snacks
“When do you feel most like the proletariat?” is a question the Chinese Communist Party will ask me when I enter their re-education program, and the first response I’ll have will be “At dessert.” I can’t stand the rich stuff. I’ll take Hershey’s over gourmet chocolate any time, and I like the crumbly standard-tasting brownies a lot better than the really dark ones with walnuts on top. I’m not sure when I started liking Chips Ahoy better than those nice little shortbread cookies, but it was probably around the time I fell in love with cheap Communion wine and fun-sized Halloween candy. It’s just not as good if it doesn’t come from a factory. I like seeing the Nutritional Facts (8g for 3 cookies for a serving, right? I still max out at 3 though I weigh 3 times as much now) and working my way down the rows of the plastic container until there’s only one left and then shoving the whole box back in the pantry for the next guy. I like grabbing both sides of the plastic wrapper and pulling until there’s a nice pop and hate it when it won’t open easily, and I have to pull and pull and pull and the skin under my nails stings a bit from the effort. I like drinking milk even though we’re the only species alive who drinks it into adulthood (the others would if they had opposable thumbs and milk jugs!). It’s just a nice feeling to hold the milk and cookies in my mouth as they get soft and then swallowing it down. Shortbread and gourmet chocolate have too much taste to mix well with lactose, and I hate that, too. I also have the ridiculous notion that Hershey’s is better for my teeth than Godiva, but that might come from my Eurotrash and Medieval stereotypes. Well, the cookies are good.One rare breed of Oreo’s that I really liked was the kind that put the classic cookie inside a chocolate shell. It didn’t go quite as well as milk and was a mite sticky if your hands were sweaty (but who doesn’t like their fingers?), but they were good and reminded me of my Grandmother’s old house with the carving of Don Quixote on the wall. A couple Christmases ago, Grandma found some of them at 86th street and wrapped them up for me. I was really happy about it. I ate one (it was 9 AM!) and then put them in my closet. A couple days later, I opened up the closet to look for them, and they were gone. They just sprouted wings and flew away. So be it. I could have spent a couple hours looking for them, but 15 minutes was good enough; have you ever noticed how much more we could do with our lives if we didn’t spend hours looking for stupid things like a deck of cards or piece of paper with the phone number of some kid from school? One of these days, I’ll find another box, but I’m not too worried about it. I only remembered it because an entire box of Chips Ahoy just vanished into thin air.
Explore posts in the same categories: La Vida
