While not widely reported, grocery shopping has become a contributing factor behind a recent Centers for Disease Control finding: 1/2 of all Americans will suffer from some form of mental illness. The sheer variety of choices we’re confronted by are enough to trigger a panic attack. Take waffles for example.
They’re waffles. They all have square-shaped dents. There’s no reason for all these permutations. To boot, my photo doesn’t capture all 12 doors, and with approximately 7 varieties of waffle in each, that’s roughly 84 choices. Don’t go to the supermarket if you have a hard time making decisions.
The Breakfast Pack Just Got Bigger.
The modest single-serving cereal box of my youth is gone, having mutated into this 8 pack of saccharine-fueled gluttony. Even the “Breakfast Pack” font emblazoned on the packaging is bloated, consonants and vowels toppling over one another. Childhood obesity anyone?
Too Much Plastic.
I mean really, all these crazy faces and vehicles, it’s just lunacy. The amount of plastic in these juice-bombs cancels the recent achievement of the water bottle industry–less plastic. And do our kids need to be constantly entertained, even when they’re drinking juice? Why would I want to drink from Tigger’s head? Is he hydrocephalic or something?
Introducing DiamondWeave™ Toilet Paper.
A pretty bold claim to assert “For a clean you will notice.” Traditionally, that’s one of the hardest places to get a good look at. And evidently you can win awards by using this toilet paper. Little Bear is proof. He’s held high by a beaming Momma Bear, her offspring winning 1st place for the Least Soiled Hiney.
The Vomit Roll.
When referring to food, use of the terms “celebration” and “roll” make me throw-up. A Celebration Roll is something you do, an activity, like when your team wins, or you’ve just received a holy sacrament. Let’s call this roll what it really is–a Friendly’s Log.
The Check-Out Mags.
We’ve been assaulted by mind-numbing choices, surrendered to increased portion sizes, submitted to outrageous packaging, and now, it’s time to check-out, where we catch-up with our humanoid family: Kim, Angelina and Brad. We know their every move, their hardships, their hairstyles. I’d disown them if I could.