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The Case of the Brown Sugar Bandit
May 15th, 2008 | caitlin | Categories: Uncategorized
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I am not afraid of food. I heart food. Eating is AMAZING. And the most amazing meal in any given day is breakfast. Breakfast makes my world turn, the grass grow and the flowers bloom. Breakfast is a gift to me from the heavens. In case you hadn’t figured it out, I think BREAKFAST ROCKS!

Because of my absolute obsession with breakfast, May 12th and 13th 2008 are going down in history as two of the saddest days of my life. Why you ask? Because breakfast poisoned me. It poisoned me good. I have been an oompa loompa for two whole days and only just figured it why – BREAKFAST did it.

True Confession Time:

Maybe it wasn’t breakfast directly. Maybe it was my mother. Yes that’s it, my mother poisoned me. You see when I was living at home and my mom was imparting her life lessons on me, she taught me that you can turn a rock of brown sugar back into its moist little granules by placing a piece of bread in the container.

(Do you all see where this is going? Can you see how my mom – not breakfast- poisoned me?)

Well my mom was right, bread works. Our brown sugar went from a cement block, back into tender granules instantly. Maybe my mom does know everything!

No.

You see I sprinkle brown sugar goodness on my breakfast every morning. Brown sugar can make anything an instant hit, so I use it like most of you use salt. Well, Boyfriend and I had recently employed the bread trick. And before you start judging me, I didn’t put the bread into my breakfast, I used only the brown sugar. The brown sugar that was contaminated with bread crumbs. Tiny little crumbs of arsenic if you are allergic to gluten. Yup folks I sprinkled arsenic on my breakfast two days in a row. And its all my moms fault. Had I not used her wisdom I wouldn’t be bloated like Kristy Alley before Jenny Craig. Its her fault and I’m sticking to it. So take it from me people, bread crumbs can sneak up on you like ninjas in a dark alley. Watch for breadcrumbs around every corner.

Note to self: mom is not always right; no matter how much she tells you she is.

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