Oh trimethylxanthine-
psychoactive stimulant,
make my morning great.

I think I’m becoming immune to its effects in small doses though and this makes me sad.

Maybe if I stopped drinking Coke (I don’t drink much, but I’ve really developed a taste for the stuff) and just drank green tea, I’d actually feel the effects of caffeine again.

Come on caffeine – I’ll work better if you work your magic.

The Eat-More bar is supposedly a “chewy dark toffee, peanut and chocolate” bar. But what you never hear about is how these bars are made – well, I am spilling my guts to the world now. No more secrets! This is how Eat-More is manufactured:

1. Go to work at candy bar factory.
2. Pick up random bits of toffee, peanuts and chocolate on the bottom of your boots.
3. Scrape boots off into the Eat-More bucket at the end of your shift.
4. Grave-yard shift workers press it into bars and sell it.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s an economical and environmentally friendly method for making candy, but even if their boots are clean; do you really want to eat candy that was on the floor? This defies the five second rule and is, quite frankly, unhygienic.

I did try to get a picture of it, but it sensed my great dislike for it and would not allow me to take its photo. All the photos were blurred and in one, I’m fairly certain I saw a cluster of peanut bits shaped like Satan. But, I am not one to disappoint my readers and I discovered the Candy Blog has a very nice and in-focus photo of it.

Besides which, the candy looks rather like a shiny turd with peanut bits embedded in it and this is a G rated blog. Someone has to think of the children.

My father would tell me I am a cretin for not loving these bars. He claims they are tasty, they keep the mail moving (though how that much sugar translates into fibre I will never know) and the number one reason to love Eat-More bars (according to dear old Dad) is folding the wrapper like so:

I tried eating a little piece of the bar – after all I have broadened my horizons somewhat since I was 7 years old – but, my refined adult palate wholeheartedly rejected the candy and went running straight into the arms of a 3 Musketeers bar.

Dad, if you’re reading this, I’m sure it’s Mum’s faulty genes that dictate my hatred for this candy. I still like beer if that helps.

They are pulpy, chewy, gross and have the same texture as vomit (read The Lies of Locke Lamora for some interesting uses of chewed up oranges). Plus, the smell of oranges give me the nastiest headaches.

Joe, in his quest to ensure I don’t get scurvy, found these really tiny oranges that seem to be nothing but orange juice wrapped up in a peel. I think they are some type of clementine.

They were delicious, not at all pulpy, nice smelling and I ate several with great joy.

Sorry, Sunkist oranges – but you lose.

That’s right – Clippy. Your spaghetti is now evil and annoying.

By the next day they look spotted and diseased and your significant other named Joe won’t eat the last two.

Uh, not that I know this “Joe” person.

So anyway, you resort to bribery. You offer to make banana bread if he can bring you third spotty banana. You say it as though making a loaf of banana bread is the culmination of your life’s work and desires.

It works of course.

The third spotty banana is brought home and you coo over it as though you made it yourself. Banana bread is baked and then devoured with much enjoyment and large cups of tea.

Plus, positive reinforcement like the above ensures that eventually “Joe” will leave three bananas on the counter to go spotty.

And I’ll bake banana bread to celebrate.

I showed the link to a friend and he immediately came back with “Salad is Genocide!” – and thus was this week’s Sticky Note Friday born.

Thank you for the inspiration Shaun and Bittersweeets!

Joe sometimes refers to them as “sloppy mes”, but in our household they are more often referred to as “that dinner that requires little work and even less creativity”.

Simplicity and laziness is tasty.

Wherever you are, whatever you celebrate; have a safe and happy holiday!

The alternate title for this post was:

“…And Ramble was nestled
all snug in her bed,
While visions of bacon rolls
danced in her head.”

But it was too long.

Joe – the awesomest best-friend and fiancé a girl could ask for – got me a Nintendo GameCube controller and a copy of AnimalCrossing that can be played on the Wii with said controller.

Pretty cool right? But, Joe wasn’t done being awesome, he also had this made for me:

I have always wanted an Ernie cake. Call it unfinished childhood business if you will, but I HAD to have an Ernie cake. This cake is way cooler than the cake I imagined in my head. It’s really Ernie! My favourite Sesame Street character besides Barkley!

If you want an Ernie cake of your very own – contact Robert Wood of Pacificakes. If you think my cake is cool, check out the bunny cake under Novelty Cakes on the website. I thought that bunny was a plush toy, but it’s CAKE.

Also, Ernie was made from milk-free chocolate cake and icing that you could eat without your teeth dissolving from the sugar content. Pacificakes does this on request!

We now have Ernie’s head in a box in our fridge. That sounds pretty gruesome I guess, but I can overcome the horror of eating a beloved childhood icon when it’s made of chocolate cake.

P.S.: Ignore the post date of Nov. 11, I wrote this on Nov. 10! Bizarro time-stamps be damned!