Well, OK, there was a Lean Cuisine lunch–somewhere–in between, but, well, the prunes? They, um . . . worked.
Hoo-baby, did they work. (This is the problem with me and prunes–I actually LOVE them, see, and so can’t stop eating them, especially if I’ve got a bag sitting on my desk at work while I’m idling away my day at the SDMB.)
So the Lean Cuisine is long gone, along with everything I’ve eaten since age 10.
But what should happen, just at the moment I’ve hidden the bag of prunes DEEP back in the office fridge, and begun to feel like life is worth living again?
My coworker brings me a bag of red hots as a little gift.
My GF once ate a whole bag of prunes. I warned her. Did she listen? You better be no more than 30 seconds from a toilet if you eat prunes, I’m telling ya!
lieu, I’ve pretty much been there all day. But I’m honored to have you in my poo thread.
samarm, the same thing happened to my college roommate who stayed up all night studying once, and ganked the bag of prunes that my parents had sent me in a care package.
When I awoke the next morning, my roommate approached me, sheepish and apologetic, and confessed that she’d eaten the entire bag of prunes.
I think she thought my look of shock and horror was due to the fact that she’d angered me by scarfing my goodies. I tried to explain, but I could tell it wasn’t sinking in.
At any rate, I warned her that she was going to be very, very sorry . . .
She ended up having to bail in the middle of the test (for which, let me reiterate, she’d studied ALL NIGHT) and spend the afternoon in the dorm loo.
My sister was about 6 when she came home from school one day and told my mom she had “Texas Raisins” at lunch. (Such cute names they market stuff under for kids.) Not only had she eaten her two, but just about everyone else’s, as well.
My mother almost peed in her pants laughing when the prunes set in and my sister booked it to the bathroom.
For some unpleasant reason (possibly spurred by the fact I just watched he last part of “Flubber” with LilMiss) I keep imagining red hots as BB’s, pinging people in the forehead as they walk behind Aunite Em.
yosemite, let the record show that I blame my love for prunes on my Nana, who fed them to me when I was what she called “a teeny tiny tot”. She also gave me coffee. HOT damn, I must have been one, erm . . . regular kid!
. . . and Homebrew, hell yeah–didn’t you know I was raised by old people? My parents were in their 40s when I was born, and I was left in the care of my Nana so that my mom could continue working. Nana inspired in me not only a love of prunes, but also of cottage cheese (sometimes MIXED with prunes–oh, yeah, Baby) and circus peanuts.
Kalhoun, you’d think my family would learn to stay away from red hots. Several years ago, my mother broke a tooth on one. Since she’d had a root canal in that tooth, she assumed it would be OK to glue the tooth back together with Crazy Glue.
Boy, was she wrong. Now she’s only got like 6 teeth left. :eek:
But Honey, we still love some red hots around here . . . except for my brother. He always hated them–he said they smelled like a whole bunch of people had spit into a pot and boiled it.
Skerri, I LOVE that story! Texas raisins! I’m gonna remember that one (maybe even incorporate it into a sig line one day)!
and MissTake . . . what did I TELL you about making me laugh right now???
