If you happen to find yourself in your kitchen at 6:30 a.m. one morning, feeling not so hot because your horrendous cedar allergies have made your throat feel like you just shotgunned an entire tub of pick-up-stix and bobby pins, but also because the night before when you were supposed to meet your friend at the movies–right after your annual bikini wax (which, btw, was made even more torturous, if that’s even possible, because the prisonguard-ish waxer wouldn’t shut up about how she really wishes she could become a real vampire)–you actually didn’t meet your friend at the movies because, as it turns out, said friend went to THE WRONG MALL, meaning that instead of shoving popcorn into your piehole and staring at a wrinkly Brad Pitt for two hours, you had to skulk around a deserted Ross Dress For Less looking at irregular sweaters and mangy throw pillows until your screwy friend finally showed up in her badass Honda minivan and suggested you go drink some beer at the new, loud neighborhood bar that, for some reason, serves steak and baked potatoes in the parking lot and only plays songs by Grand Funk Railroad, which, of course, is awesome, no question about that, because they’re an American Band, after all, but now, this morning, all of that late-night awesomeness seems to have led to a big throbbing headache right in your, um, head that has you reaching desperately for some refreshing, hot coffee from the automatic coffee maker that your husband gave you for your birthday, in addition to a kick-ass electric wine bottle opener (which was really the much better gift, who are we kidding), but then, after pouring your coffee into your prized Santa Anita Racetrack mug, you blurrily reach into the fridge and blindly grab for your carton of Silk creamer, which you just love because it’s low-fat and also because it doesn’t make you feel like you’ve been kicked in the intestines like that other evil creamer-who-shall-remain-nameless does and then you very shakily pour a big bunch of that Silk creamer into your waiting coffee, raise it to your eager lips and take a HUGE sip of it and…well, supposing all of that happens to you some morning, please, please be sure that what you’re actually pouring into your coffee is this:
And the reason I say this is because, and this is the big news, wait for it…there just might be something in your fridge that just so happens to be the EXACT SHAPE AND SIZE of your yummy Silk creamer, but, in fact, it isn’t creamer at all, and may actually be something yellow and slimy and stinky that tastes like chickens and death. Something like, say, this:
Yep. I did. But if this public service announcement can prevent just one, ONE person from making the same nasty mistake, then it was almost, but not really, worth it. Now I’m going into the bathroom to wash out my mouth with Clorox and scotch. And maybe a torch. Let’s stay safe out there, OK?