Latest Article|September 3, 2020|Free
::Making Grown Men Cry Since 1992
2 min read
I’m a mean mommy to my 7-year-old boy. He has to clean his plate before he gets dessert. Dinner always has vegetables and almost always has a whole grain something or other. And for snacks I torture him by offering such horrible, unreasonable foods as carrots, yogurt, cheese and crackers or sugar-free Jello or snack packs. But I am occasionally overcome with niceness. I just hit the cereal aisle on a routine shopping trip, where I magnanimously decided to purchase a box of junk stuff for the kiddo as a treat. I took a chance on “Ice Berry” Fruity Pebbles.Now, I haven’t had a bowl of Fruity Pebbles for a quite few years—not since the days when I would have three bowls for lunch because I had seven bongs rips for breakfast. I was hoping for a trip down marijuana—er, I mean memory lane when I raided the kid’s cereal box. I got a distinctive whiff of pseudo-strawberry sugar aroma when I broached the box, and after a few bites I swear on all that’s holy that I could not tell the difference, at least taste-wise, between this and the regular old stuff. Same taste, same soggy-in-five-seconds consistency, but this one had only red and blue colors. And no frosting! What the fuuuuck?!? Ice berry with no icing? I felt gypped, like that time I bought a dimesack from this guy at a party that had been cut with oregano. (I didn’t get too high, but at least I had nice breath.) Boooooring! You can web ‘em here, but they don’t have anything new or cool to look at.