Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Am I growing weak in my middle age? Is my constantly subjecting my body to the depredations of junk food and alcohol, physical inertia and lack of sleep causing my strength to leave me? It could be that. How else can you explain that it takes me a half hour now to open a bag of M&M's? Sometimes, after a prolonged wrestling match with a bag, I get so desperate, that I force myself to get up off the couch and retrieve a pair of scissors from the kitchen. It almost isn't worth the effort.
Of course, the problem isn't really with my shriveled heart muscle and noodle arms. No, the problem is in the design of the M&M bag. It's designers have a bit of a puritan streak in them. It seems they can't stand the idea of somebody somewhere enjoying delicious plain or peanut chocolate candies, so they try to prevent all but the most dauntless candy lovers from getting at the candies inside the bag. So, too often, an eager chocolate enthusiast, driven to a frenzy by his frustration, will grab a bag with both hands, pulling in opposite directions, holding his breath, his fingers aching, face turning red, sweat beading on his forehead, his vision reduced to a narrow tunnel, until suddenly, with a violent rip, the bag explodes, shooting candy at high velocity in all directions. Windows are broken, pets are maimed, bystanders lie unconscious or cower under the coffee table digging candies out of their ears. It's tragic. It's tragic and so unnecessary. Why must M&M Mars make their bags so hard to open? Why?
And why, after I feel slightly nauseous from consuming most of a bag of M&M's do I feel that I must have one more? That's a question for another time.