What I go through for you guys
Here's how Kitters "helps" me blog, most nights...all fifteen pounds of him:
Let me preface what's about to come by saying that if you have a weak stomach or hate bugs, you should probably just go watch the Kitters video a few more times and then come back tomorrow. Also, if you really like Shredded Wheat? Uh...I recommend the cat video. Seriously.
So I was driving home from dropping my sister off at our parents' house, and trying to come up with a blog post to go along with my cat video (which you should totally be watching instead of reading if you're not sure about this part LAST WARNING TURN BACK NOW), and it dawned on me. Why not tell the Shredded Wheat story?
When I was a kid, I spent the night at my cousins' house a lot. There are three of them, and we're what my mom calls "stair-stepped" -- I'm nine months younger than MacGyver, who is sixteen months younger than Anthony, who is a year younger than Amethyst. We only lived two blocks apart and Amethyst was one of my best friends growing up, so I spent many weekend nights at her house, and she spent just as many at mine.
I don't recall how old I was when this happened, or what caused me to choose the cereal I did that day. I had never actually eaten Shredded Wheat before, which makes it even more mysterious that I'd choose it over whatever all my cousins were eating. I do remember my aunt telling me that the Shredded Wheat was kind of old, and telling her I didn't mind. So she poured me a bowl, and I have to admit the cereal was kind of terrible. This wasn't cute little bite-sized Frosted Mini Wheats, it was the kind without frosting, where the pieces of Shredded Wheat are huge, like small hay bales in your bowl. But I couldn't exactly change my mind after she'd poured the cereal and added milk, so I slogged grimly forward.
Until the moment, that is, when I looked down and saw a two-inch-long multilegged thing hotfooting it across the surface of my Shredded Wheat. I do not know if it was a millipede or a centipede, and I do not know how it came to be in that box of cereal, but I can tell you that it was years, years before I could eat Shredded Wheat again. And just telling you this story, I'll probably end up with an all-night case of the heebs.
So yeah. I warned you, right? Hey, at least I didn't tell the one about my mom and the Twinkies...
(And yes, this post was written with the help of my faithful assistant, which is why I am rapidly losing feeling in my left hand. Send helpaslk;awlie'oaf l oie[oawi