Why Did I Buy That?

Yesterday, I bought yet another one of those checkout counter, soft cover cookbooks. You know, the type printed by Pilsbury and Betty Crocker? I now have one for pasta, chicken, drinks, Christmas desserts, vegetables, vegetarian, summer food, BBQ, Bisquick recipes, cookies, and even popcorn.

Recipes actually tried = 0

Why do I keep buying these things? I bring them home, look at them for a few minutes, then stuff them on the shelf under the wine rack.

I also have a supply of wrapping paper and gift bags that I replenish every time there is a sale or I see some that I like.

Times I have used part of my supply = 0

I always forget I have it and end up buying new whenever there is a birthday.

My grandmother does the same thing, only she uses all that stuff. I would suggest putting a ban on purchasing cookbooks for the next 5 or 10 years because you have so many already. Also, make me some pasta and send it my way… :smiley:

I do the same thing. I have a huge box of them in my closet that I will probably never look at again but I just can’t make myself throw them away. But I can say I have made a couple of recipes out of them. The pictures on the front of them are always so pretty and look delicous but they never turn out good. :frowning:

VERY embarrassing confession.

First let me make perfectly clear that I HATE Cosmo Magazine. However, every once in a while I get the urge to “Know How to Make Your Man Beg For More” or “Sexy Secrets” and I cave in and buy one, only to be disappointed to see that I’ve already learned most of it in my old age. It’s a sad feeling, really, to know that you’ve hit your peak and there is nothing new to learn.

Once upon a time, my best friend had a subscription to Playgirl (for the articles :D) and I had one to Cosmo (yeah, I know, I HATE that magazine). We made a deal that after we read each issue, we would trade with each other.

This worked out great until we started to get bored with reading the same old thing and seeing the same old pee pees. Whenever my Cosmo would come in the mail, I would scan the pages then stack them on a top shelf of my closet, Pam would do the same with her Playgirls. We always intended to make the trade but we would forget and the magazine stacks continued to get higher and higher.

To make a long story short, I now have huge stacks of Cosmo from the late 1970’s and early 1980’s. Even now, every once in a while the urge hits and I buy a magazine at the store. Instead of tossing it out, I add it to my To-Give-To-Pam stack. You would think after 22 years I would get the clue to back the dumpster to my window and unload, but I don’t, I just keep on adding to it. There must be over a hundred by now, no lie.

The sad thing is, is that I never read 90% of the articles because I HATE that magazine!

I just returned from the ladies’ room, where there is a full-length mirror placed in front of the door. I am wearing a new pale-green dress that I thought was a nice, springtime color. Suddenly I am faced with the unavoidable fact that I look exactly like a huge cabbage with feet.

What WAS I thinking? And why didn’t I notice before I left the house?

Answers for all of you!

[sub]Hey, you asked.[/sub]

You buy these cookbooks and read them not for the recipes. You don’t need no stinkin’ recipes. You read them for the culinary ideas. You’re a creative person that can come up with your own chicken frikasee, thank you very much. You just like to be reminded of all the names of the various spices and such. Mostly, its the such.

Regarding the Cosmos, you secretly still wish to see those pee pees of old. But you won’t bring yourself around to actually purchasing a Playgirl, and you hope upon hopes that you’ll run into Pam, and she’ll be carrying an equally huge stack of nudie mags for your viewing pleasure. Give her a call.

You bought that dress because mirrors in workplaces are cruel. They lie to you and they deceive you. The dress you bought actually makes you look like a 22 year old college co-ed, but your bosses don’t want it to get to your head. Therefore, they’ve installed circus mirrors to make you think you’ve accidentally consumed the Cabbage Candy at Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.

Any more?

Is one of you really Christine Lavin?

I once bought a pair of pants - let’s see, I think they were called “parachute pants” or some such thing. They had zippers at the bottom of each leg. Of course, they were too long and needed to be hemmed. My sister did it, and did a great job - she even had to remove and replace the zippers.

You can guess the end - I never wore them, not once.

My sister never lets me live that one down.

Connor - You are wise beyond your years.

Firstly, I’m now Munch, formerly known as Connor.

Secondly, KVS, there is a completely rational reason you did that. You see, you purchased those pants in 1983. They were what the kids of that time called “wicked” or “radical”. In actuality, they weren’t too far off the mark.

However, the reason you never wore them is, and this is exactly what you need to tell your sister, is because a weird man in a white tuxedo named “Taco” came and stole them from you. He was singing something about a cracker at the time.

Blame it on the music I say, blame it on the music.

When I was about 9 or 10, I was on a cross country trip with the family. We stopped at a rest area/truck stop kind of place so every one could stretch their legs, pee, and what-have-you.

I went into the bathroom, and on the wall was a vending machine that sold condoms and various other “adult needs.” One of the “products” in the machine was a (pardon my french) “Blow Job” machine.

Needless to say, I was very intrigued by this, especially since it only cost three quarters! So, making sure no one was looking, I quickly purchased one of these remarkable devices, deftly hid it in my pocket, and ran back to the car.

Later, under the cloak of privacy that only a bathroom can provide, I took out my new purchase with great excitement. I think it was about 10 seconds later that my excitement turned to embaressment when I learned that my “toy” was in fact a baloon! On it was printed the words “Thanks for the blow job”…

What the heck was I thinking?

Easy. You were thinking (at the ripe age of 9 no less!), that if you could harness the knowledge and know-how involved in creating a product that could provide a blowjob to the public at large for a mere 3 quarters, you could quite possibly be the most powerful 3rd grader in the world.

Either that, or you proved to humanity what the average intelligence is of the people who think that bathroom vending machines are provided for your convenience, and not just to make a buck.

Green ketchup. I thought it would be fun, but I can’t get past the color. Ugh. Why did I buy it?

I have no idea. I got a packet at Burger King last week, and just couldn’t do it. Lets just say that you got it to gross your friends out, and we’ll keep it at that.

Munch - who can’t find the thread he’s looking for

I have a weakness for stationery - especially notebooks. I use about two pages, then I put them aside once I find a new one.

I once went a week without eating a proper meal, because I spent my last $5 on a notebook and a new pen.

Hey, keep those things around. They’re good opportunities for future amusement.

Case in point: The Gallery of Regrettable Foods