COLUMN: Shirking the junk food junkie
Fun fact: I’ve been dieting.
It’s true. For the first time in my life I have actually been very obedient toward my goal to shed pounds, tone some muscle and prove to the general public I really do resemble Steve Zahn.
I’ve come to a myriad of stirring realizations while on my fury of fitness, and not all of them have to deal with immensely mysterious side-stomach cramps — from kickboxing nonetheless.
A grand majority of my diet findings have come from my newly dawned outside-looking-in perspective on snack foods. It is a completely different world when you can’t have them. Now that I see the sweet and salty morsels that I used to find myself swooning over on a more level playing field, I have a few that are slowly beginning to confuse me.
First off, am I the only one who has no clue why Nutter Butters exist? I mean, be loud and proud if you enjoy them, but I just don’t see the flair. I can only surmise that Nutter Butters came to fruition because: A) There was a surprise birth due to the some deranged canoodling between a Payday and a circus peanut, or B) We finally know what Oreo looks like when suffering from a severe flu.
Either way, Nutter Butter, if it’s mainstream adoration you crave, you’ve got a lot of proving to do.
Next in line, I have a few means of constructive criticism for Pringles. Pringles, I’ve got nothing against you. As far as potato chips go you tend to hold your own. There is just one thing that always kept us from having a stronger relationship than we did: my wrists.
Do you have any idea how hard it is to effectively snag the last one third of your tater slats from your aluminum battle tube with any remote amount of safety? Nobody likes a cracked chip, and believe me when I say you are taking far too many risks expecting consumers to self-deliver chips down your salty water slide.
That is why I have a suggestion — a merger that will make all your edible roadblocks go away. I’m talking about you doing business with Pez. Just think about it, you keep the same quality chip cuddled inside a contraption with as much convenience as any of the machines found in the weird dome where the Teletubbies live. It’s about time you stopped hurting and started healing.
So, Triscuits, is it just me, or are you simply the product of some workers who went a little too quickly from the helm at the frosted shredded wheat factory? Seriously, I can only assume some machine malfunctioned, and what was supposed to be a rounded morsel covered in frosting found itself flattened and flavorless, only to be packaged in a smaller box and pushed to the public as the perfect companion with Cheez Whiz. Cut to sausage, Tris’, I can see right through you.
Now, as for you, Crumb Mini Donettes… actually, never mind. You’re awesome. Keep up the good work.
Now for my candy rant. Jolly Ranchers, I bite through you and feel like I gave myself a root canal. This must stop. Skittles, I see you trying to be the cool cousin to M&M’s, and trust me when I say it isn’t working. Tootsie Pops you are second in command to Blow Pops. Crunch bars you are second in command to Kit Kats. Milk Duds, you are second in command to Rolos — just embrace where you stand and nobody gets hurt.
Finally, Squeeze-Its, where are you? No far-from responsible snack is complete without a more-sugar-than-water drink, and you are nowhere to be found, leaving us to settle for Kool-Aid Bursts, Capri Sun or the occasional Goo Punch from “My Brother and Me.” You were the drink that started it all, and for those who seek the thrill of natural glucose and artificial everything else, only you can bring the Sweet Tooth Society to the level of which we used to be. Please come home, and, if you do, bring Gushers with you.
Now, I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right, I went an entire snack-food-themed column without once bringing up Twinkies. Sorry, I guess I ran out of time.
– Steve Schwartzman is a junior majoring in speech communication. His column runs every Wednesday. He loves sports, comedy and creative writing. He encourages any comments at his email steve.schwartzman@aggiemail.usu.edu, or find him on Facebook.