OK. So last night I am hungry, so I have to go to the grocery store. As we all know, as a bachelor, I don't have food in my fridge, just alot of stuff that goes on food. I noticed last night I have six different kinds of mustard, two types of ketchup, five jellies/jams, two apple butters, three mayonase/miricle whip things, four types of soy sauce, six salad dressings, a jar of Dr. Otis's Pecan Honey Molasses Glaze and a jar of something sorta purple with no label that smells kinda sweet and burned my finger when I touched it. But no food, WTF? (Well, thats not true I found some type of veggie matter in the vegetable damper, but I wasn't gonna eat it.)
So I go to the grocery store. And you know what? There is no bachelor size portions. Nothing is really single serving. Everything is Family Sized, banquet packs, super-duper mega meals, stock up for the Apocalypse size servings. What the hell am I gonna do with eighteen corndogs? I mean I can eat like six, but eighteen? That means I gotta save them in another bag and remember they are there in the freezer. Which I won't and six months later I will find this unidentifiable mass of ice in the freezer. And when it comes to food, if I gotta use an ice pick to get at it, I ain't interested. (I mean I am an American, I get in my car to drive to a fast food place to buy food that I did not grow, did not process, did not cook or prepare and did not serve without getting out of my car.) I am not ready for the level of commitment required by purchasing eighteen corndogs or forty-six breaded chicken patties. And whats with this "Meal for Two" crap? Is "two" the smallest socially acceptable unit that food producers come up with? "A perfect meal for two." What about "The perfect meal for the irritable bachelor, bottle of Rebel Yell not included." Lemme tell you it is bad enough I get this crap from my parents. As an unmarried consumer I am under enough social peer pressure from friends in relationships. But it is even worse when corporate America is making a value judgment on my lifestyle. Oh sure, I can buy the five pound bag of Skillet Sensations. But that means my trying to eat five pounds of Skillet Sensations in one sitting and lying around my apartment like a hippo with a glandular problem or it means leftovers. Leftovers mean something unidentifiable thats green and fuzzy in my fridge that I have to kill before it develops language skills. Oh sure I can cook from off the rack stuff. I am actually a very skilled amateur in the kitchen, but there are times I am not interested in cooking and tossing something into the oven or the microwave is the best option.
And it is not just food. Have you seen toothpaste or mouthwash lately? The tubes look like you need a caulking gun to use them and two gallons of Listerine is way too much. I live alone, morning breath is not that big of a problem for me. And toilet paper? Fifty-six rolls. Thats just something I am gonna have to move when I leave my current abode. And Q-Tips. Fifty-six-HUNDRED Q-tips. Thats fifteen years of Q-Tips if I use one a day. Fifty-six-HUNDRED Q-tips.The practical result of which is I am going to be sitting around my apartment going "Hmmm. I got 5600 Q-Tips. What else can I use them for?" All that means is I am going to be on the evening news. Fifty-six-HUNDRED Q-tips. "I, James , being of sound mind and body, hereby leave to my heirs and assigns, thirty-six hundred Q-Tips to be divided per stipes." "Tonight on Ripley's, James from Kansas who has made a scale model of the HMS Victory out of Q-Tips, toilet paper and corndog sticks using toothpaste for glue and floated on a sea of Listerine...."
So I go to the grocery store. And you know what? There is no bachelor size portions. Nothing is really single serving. Everything is Family Sized, banquet packs, super-duper mega meals, stock up for the Apocalypse size servings. What the hell am I gonna do with eighteen corndogs? I mean I can eat like six, but eighteen? That means I gotta save them in another bag and remember they are there in the freezer. Which I won't and six months later I will find this unidentifiable mass of ice in the freezer. And when it comes to food, if I gotta use an ice pick to get at it, I ain't interested. (I mean I am an American, I get in my car to drive to a fast food place to buy food that I did not grow, did not process, did not cook or prepare and did not serve without getting out of my car.) I am not ready for the level of commitment required by purchasing eighteen corndogs or forty-six breaded chicken patties. And whats with this "Meal for Two" crap? Is "two" the smallest socially acceptable unit that food producers come up with? "A perfect meal for two." What about "The perfect meal for the irritable bachelor, bottle of Rebel Yell not included." Lemme tell you it is bad enough I get this crap from my parents. As an unmarried consumer I am under enough social peer pressure from friends in relationships. But it is even worse when corporate America is making a value judgment on my lifestyle. Oh sure, I can buy the five pound bag of Skillet Sensations. But that means my trying to eat five pounds of Skillet Sensations in one sitting and lying around my apartment like a hippo with a glandular problem or it means leftovers. Leftovers mean something unidentifiable thats green and fuzzy in my fridge that I have to kill before it develops language skills. Oh sure I can cook from off the rack stuff. I am actually a very skilled amateur in the kitchen, but there are times I am not interested in cooking and tossing something into the oven or the microwave is the best option.
And it is not just food. Have you seen toothpaste or mouthwash lately? The tubes look like you need a caulking gun to use them and two gallons of Listerine is way too much. I live alone, morning breath is not that big of a problem for me. And toilet paper? Fifty-six rolls. Thats just something I am gonna have to move when I leave my current abode. And Q-Tips. Fifty-six-HUNDRED Q-tips. Thats fifteen years of Q-Tips if I use one a day. Fifty-six-HUNDRED Q-tips.The practical result of which is I am going to be sitting around my apartment going "Hmmm. I got 5600 Q-Tips. What else can I use them for?" All that means is I am going to be on the evening news. Fifty-six-HUNDRED Q-tips. "I, James , being of sound mind and body, hereby leave to my heirs and assigns, thirty-six hundred Q-Tips to be divided per stipes." "Tonight on Ripley's, James from Kansas who has made a scale model of the HMS Victory out of Q-Tips, toilet paper and corndog sticks using toothpaste for glue and floated on a sea of Listerine...."