I’m a buffoon. I’m pretty darn sure of it. And I’m pretty darn sure that many of you reading this are nodding your head vigorously in agreement with me. So why am I taking this particular moment to announce my candidacy for ‘Buffoonisher of the Year’? It’s because of this innocent-enough-looking container that I couldn’t figure out how to open.
First of all, please DO note that I’m eating healthy. It is my goal to improve my mind, body and spirit in 2013 and this was one of the first steps towards doing so. I encourage all of my friends to join me in getting fit and healthy. Let’s make this a great year!
Ok, truth be told the drive-thru line at McDonald’s was too long. So I had to go to our local cafeteria that had already closed their grill by the time I got there. BUT the choice was this fine example of a yogurt parfait or a piece of chocolate cake that looked it was made in the Middle Ages – so at least I was SOMEWHAT healthy.
Anyway, you can tell by the above picture that I was just itching to dig into the cool, blueberry-induced goodness that was this parfait. The creaminess and fragrant aroma were destined to leave my senses on high-alert. Throw the sparkling granola in there for a snap of texture, and what you have there is a lunch for the ages.
If only I could figure out how to get in it.
I’ll say on my behalf that there were no directions. If someone off the boat from Malagawi saw this, he/she wouldn’t have even given the mixing of ingredients a second thought. There’s no way that a newbie would know that the granola goes IN the yogurt. I feel bad for the immigrants coming into this country not even knowing how to concoct a simple lunch from this package. A letter to the maker of this packaging WILL be forthcoming.
I managed to finally pry off the top ‘section’ of the cup with only a few problems. Those problems being 1) two small cuts suffered to my fingers from the sharp edge of the lid and 2) the inside of the lid being coated with the aforementioned yogurt – resulting in a shirt full of the creamy substance. But the good news was that the lid was off and the yogurt was hereby accessible. In fact, the Malagawian mentioned earlier may have just stopped now thinking that the granola was in fact just a decoration and not edible – and just chowed down on the delicious cultures that awaited him in the lower cup (we’ll now call it Module A.) But not me.
With bloodied digits and stained clothing, and with a spirit not swayed, I attacked the upper cup (we’ll now call it Module B) with the vengeance of Dr. Phil attacking a cheating wife. There was a cup inside Module B that needed to come out. And it wouldn’t. Pry as I might, it was sitting in the Module B home safe and sound and refused all attempts at prying and pulling and yanking and coercing. Out comes the knife. That’s right, I had to take my already injured hand and use a knife to cut into the Module B safe-house and free the cup of granola from its plastic hell. And what was I left with? The detritus of plastic that makes America great:
The granola from SubCup 1 of Module B was then poured into the Module A yogurt which resulted in a textural display of fruity comfort the likes of which may never to be repeated. Or attempted. This much-ballyhooed foray into health food gave me multiple lacerations and abrasions as well a dirty frock to launder. But at least I wasn’t hungry any longer.
And don’t even ASK if I put each separate piece of plastic into a recycle bin….