Tuesday, January 29, 2008

ThePeach Ruins Women for ThePilot

ThePilot and I had a little chat on msn today. It went as such:

ThePilot: Peach, it’s -41 degrees Celsius here in Fort McMoney.
ThePeach: MOVE BACK.
ThePilot: -50 degrees with the wind chill.
ThePilot: I want to be dead.
ThePilot: Sure, just as soon as you find me a job flying planes somewhere warm.
ThePeach:…does it have to be planes?
ThePilot: Yes.
ThePeach: Because we could always run away together to Mexico, and I’m pretty sure they need dudes to drive those boats that people hang-glide off of.
ThePilot: It has to be planes.
ThePeach:…so what else is new?
ThePilot: Wait, why do you want to run away now?
ThePeach: Oh, because I hate my job, and the crippling depression of knowing that I have to come in each day and waste another 8 hours of my life makes me wonder why I bother to get out of bed at all. And the uncertainty of my future makes me recoil in terror at the possibility of living alone for the rest of my life, jobless and friendless, eventually going insane and boiling my own cat so it will never leave me.
ThePilot:…I…don’t…I’m…not good at…helping…
ThePeach:…I’m eating a muffin. A chocolate-chip muffin.
ThePilot: Sweet. Here’s a question: will I ever find love? Or at least a hearty bang?
ThePeach: Of course, but I think the real question here is am I still attractive as I suck the chocolate smearings off the cellophane wrapper of this muffin?
ThePilot: Hmm…ThePeach hoovering a muffin wrapper…Ya, I’m still aroused.
ThePeach: *sucks on wrapper* thank god.
ThePilot: So, you know what I’m really into lately?
ThePeach: Well, I know it’s not Ass. Snap.
ThePilot: I hate you. But well-played. Seriously though, I’m really into “Friends” episodes lately.
ThePeach: YA AND…what?
ThePeach: No, Pilot. No.
ThePeach: Jennifer Aniston is not hot.
ThePilot: Now you listen to me, Peach. She is my perfect woman. Don’t you take this away from me. Don't you do this to me again.
ThePeach: Her face is funny.
ThePilot: Stop it.
ThePeach: If you shaved her head she would look like a dog. A hairless dog.
ThePilot: STOP IT.
ThePeach: So I guess my point here is that she may have perfect hair and the body of a Greek goddess, and tits that just won’t quit…wait, what was I talking about?
ThePilot: You were failing to prove that Rachel isn’t hot.
ThePeach: It’s her chin. Her chin is mannish.
ThePeach:…you know what? You’re right. Maybe my own low self-esteem has crippled my ability to appreciate beauty in others and I really need to do some soul-searching, here.
ThePilot: Um.
ThePeach: No, it’s definitely the chin. Here's a picture I think you should take a look at.
ThePilot: I hate you.


Friday, January 25, 2008

ThePeach Finds a New Miracle Diet

After not posting for over a month and carefully weighing each recent event in my life, I have decided that the most important thing to share with you is my discovery of Kraft LiveActive Probiotic Cheese.

Remember how I said that I am a suggestible person who will buy and believe anything a commercial tells me? I am a marketing researcher’s dream. Well, this month an advertisement in a magazine told me to buy Kraft LiveActive Probiotic Cheese. The advertisement promised me the following:

- Improved digestive health
- Improved intestinal transit, or “regularity”
- Enhanced immune system
- Same great “cheese taste”!

Now, being a slightly neurotic and weight-obsessed harpy, I chose to interpret the claims as such:

- Improved digestive health = less bloat, smaller gunt, happier life.
- Improved intestinal transit = weeee! Poop! And also less bloat, smaller gunt, happier life.
- Enhanced Immune System = You had me at smaller gunt.
- Same great “cheese taste” = Whatever. I’m gonna poop more!

This probiotic cheese seems like some kind of god-send. Seriously, I think god lovingly churned this cheese just for me. Finally there is a product out there that combines my two greatest loves: cheese and regularity. And, in my mind, I have found my new miracle diet food. Cheese as diet food. The concept blows my mind and makes my heart all a-flutter. No wait, that’s just my arteries clogging. *thump* Theeere we go.

So, I immediately dragged TigerCat to the Loblaws to purchase said cheese. I was perplexed by her lack of mutual excitement.

ThePeach: Let’s go to Loblaws!!!!!
TigerCat: Ok. I could use some groceries.
ThePeach: I’m buying PROBIOTIC CHEESE!!!!!!
TigerCat: Ok.
TigerCat: Sounds fun. For you.
TigerCat: Ya, I don’t need help in that department.
ThePeach: PROBIOT-
TigerCat: I’m not buying any.
ThePeach: PROBI-
TigerCat: You probably don’t need it, either.
ThePeach: PRO-
TigerCat: Did a commercial tell you to buy this?
ThePeach: P-
TigerCat: Just buy your fucking cheese and shut up.

My friends, I did buy the cheese. I have followed the instructions and eaten the appropriate serving size every day for the past week. About 3 days in I started noticing improved intestinal transit. Yessss.

Oh, and I choose to ignore the fact that each single serving of probiotic cheese contains 11g of fat.