Context is Everything -or- I Might Be Eating Dog Treats

Marketing. I do this for a day job. So my off-duty brain is always making note of how products are positioned, what packaging looks like, and the estimated public tolerance duration for Office Camels asking Life's Great Questions like, "Anybody know what day it is?"

But I admit, a recent trip to the grocery store had my marketing brain flummoxed. Because in the Giant Eagle supermarket, in the pet food aisle, was a very unexpected display. 

Now, normally, these free-standing bins contain colorful rawhide chews... new cat food flavors described in the same manner as five-star restaurant specials... or lint rollers because--well, you haven't seen my house, but... lint rollers. 

But instead, in this small cardboard shelf--right by the refrigerator case containing products for the dog who gets back to his wolf heritage by buying prepackaged single-serving beef options as they did in the Old World when they ran out of grandmothers--here was a box of whole grain air popped crackers that came in Cheese or Barbecue. 

The chip aisle was several rows away. 

I was drawn to examine the box more closely. "Supergrains!" it told me. 

"3.5 grams of fat per serving!" it proclaimed.

"Dare," read the brand. 

So I did. Because it's so rare to find a snack that meets my very narrow dietary restrictions. Plus it didn't mention anything about "promoting a shiny, healthy coat" or being "excellent for teeth and gums," though, I'd be up for that, too.

So I now I have officially tried these Breton Popped Supergrain Crackers, and the verdict? 

Let's just say, if these are dog biscuits, you can call me "Lassie." They're delicious. And I plan to pick up another box today...

Well, right after I bury a few things and sniff some people.


Duty first, you know.

Tastebuds, Get Packin'

The tastebuds are gonna have to go.

You see, I'm trying to lose a little weight. And initially, I thought I could do this by getting up early to exercise-- you know, to do silly arm-waving movements in my basement for 45 minutes a day? I used to do this regularly.

But now I'm also at work by 7:30am. Which means "early" for me involves a time of the morning somewhere between:

1. The time when stupid villagers normally choose to try to go kill Dracula, and
2. The time when the villagers are all either dead on the floor of the crypt, or out-and-about looking a little pale and hungry... (Pretty much like I am when I diet.)

Well, the first week of exercise, I tried tricking myself into getting up super-early. I even set my alarm fifteen minutes ahead so I would not SEE that the clock actually read 4:45am. Because while 5:00am is bad enough, 4:45 is EVIL and WRONG and looking at the clock then will burn out your retinas. Retinas which I will need for reading caloric contents.

The problem with this routine was that I am also not very smart in the morning.

Okay, "not very smart" is an understatement-- I am an amnesiac with an IQ well-below that of the average unschooled hamster in the morning.

I don't know my own name until about 6:00am, and even in getting up and grabbing coffee, I have been known to do things like put the creamer away in the dish cabinet. This makes doing more complex tasks like getting into exercise clothing, while uncaffeinated, virtually impossible.

Sports bras do not serve their greater purpose as scarves, is all I'm sayin'.

So, this has led me to try to eat healthier. Which I have been doing. I've replaced my favorite lunchtime broccoli cheese soup with a bowl of Cheerios and a banana. I've consumed tiny carrots. I've bought soy ice cream as a treat.

And I've grown to hate, just a little bit, one of my friends who is stick-skinny and gets all excited when there are peas on the salad bar. I will eat the salad, yes, I will. But darned if I'm gonna go into end-zone dances over PEAS.

So I think it would go more smoothly if my taste buds were removed. My taste buds and, perhaps, the part of my brain which remembers vividly things like what a hot roast beef sandwich with French fries and gravy tastes like. Because currently I'm going through the grocery store like this:

Me: Must buy more Cheerios and 2% milk.

Brain: OOH! Look! Barbecue potato chips! We love those!

Me: No! NO barbecue potato chips! Cheerios. And 2% milk.

Brain: Oh, that's right-- We're dieting. We're being smart and good and using our willpower and-- HEY! Macaroni and cheese in cute little containers! Do you remember how much we used to love macaroni and cheese-- you know, before we were dieting?

Me: NO. NO macaroni and cheese! Cheerios and--

Brain: Oh, I can still almost taste it-- that cheese all gooey... Maybe baked with some breadcrumbs and sharp shredded cheddar on the top?

Me: (growling) Cheerios. And 2% milk. And bananas.

Brain: WOW, bananas! We like bananas!

Me: Yes, we do. So let's go get some bananas.

Brain: Cool!...

....

...

...Hey, you know what goes good with bananas? Chocolate! Chocolate is GREAT on frozen bananas. Remember when we used to have those as a kid? Didn't we just love that?

So this is what I'm up against. If the buds were gone, and if I just couldn't remember what I was missing, I think I could really make this lifestyle shift work. Without taste buds, peas might have a fun texture I could get jazzed about. And without the food-memory part of the brain, cheese and chocolate would never become an issue. The Brain could think: "Hey, Cheerios and milk" and we'd leave it at that.

So-- here's the thing: do you think tastebudectomies are available sort of like LASIK surgery? Because, you know, I think there's a market for that.

Tastefully,
--Jenn


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