Aunt Jemima Makes Me a Sad Panda...

My computer lives! And just in the nick of time no less. You see, the last thing I need right now is an angry Ohioian on my tail. Any place (and by proxy, its citizens) that has declared Tomato Juice as it's "Official State Beverage" scares me just a little bit. So without further stalling...



I am not a "morning person" by any stretch of the imagination. Not even a little bit. I fucking hate alarm clocks with a passion that should really only be reserved for history's most heinous villains. My hatred of alarm clocks runs so deep that if I ever make a million dollars, the first thing I'm going to do is buy cases and cases of alarm clocks, just so I can fucking smash one every morning after it brutally wakes me from my peaceful slumber. For this job I will employ a comically over sized wooden mallet, and I will paint racing stripes on it.

I could easily sleep in until noon every day for the rest of my life, without once questioning whether or not I was "wasting the day". Sadly, office jobs rarely offer hours that begin at noon, so I'm forced to violently waken from whichever sweet dream I'm having, every morning at 7 am. Here's a rundown of an average morning in my life.

7 AM: My eyes fly open as the constant ringing from the alarm shocks me awake. Even though I wake up this way 5 days out of 7, my body seems to be genuinely surprised. I roll out of bed.

7:05 - 7:15 AM: Private time. I'll leave that to your imagination. Okay, I take a big shit. Have you ever thought about how difficult it is to sit on a toilet with a huge morning erection going on? Think about it.

7:15 - 7:30 AM: Time to prop myself up against the shower wall and let the water hit me in the face for fifteen minutes. Very little actual washing occurs, as I'm far too lethargic to lift a water heavy wash cloth.

7:30 - 7:55 AM: Check emails and chain smoke.

7:55 - 8 AM: Run out of my apartment in a mad rush as I realize I'm about to be late for the bus. (Seriously, I do this every morning. Fucking learn your lesson already, right?)

My morning ritual should tell you two very basic truths about me.

1. I'm a lazy bastard before my double double has a chance to kick in.
2. A complete breakfast is not a part of my vocabulary

The second point has a particularly nasty side effect. By about 10 AM, my stomach is calling me a huge asshole. And quite vigorously at that. But what am I supposed to do about it, really? Making breakfast is completely out of the question. It just isn't possible. How will I fit in all of the chain smoking if I have to cook on top of everything else? Wake up earlier you say? Quite impossible. I came to accept long ago that my destiny does not cross paths with breakfast often. Probably the reason I enjoy breakfast in the evening so much. But then, on an innocent trip to my local grocer, I spyed this. BEHOLD

A piping hot breakfast croissammich in 2 minutes?!?! I can spare two minutes. And it looks so tasty on the box. That must mean it IS tasty, right?

Hmmm.....is the sausage patty supposed to look that gray and diseased? Well, it doesn't matter what it looks like, right? It's the taste that counts, I rationalized.

Bite #1: I wonder if the croissant is supposed to be this crunchy?

Bite #2: Mmmm...I love mystery chunks of gristle....

Bite #3: Okay, something isn't right here....

Bite #4: I think I loudly proclaimed Aunt Jemima a cunt at this point, but to be fair, my memory is a bit fuzzy.

How could you subject me to this torture you call breakfast, Aunt Jemima? Haven't I always been there for you? I don't care if your syrup is a little more expensive than the generic brand. I stuck by you dammit. And for this, you pissed in my face. Et Tu Jemima....Et tu....

Maybe there is a silver lining though (I'm ever the optimist). Something this awful must be good for me! I can suffer a bit in the name of nutrition and proper dietary habits. I've abused my body pretty badly over the years, so the least I can do is give it a healthy meal every once in a while, regardless of the taste.

Wow. You are a cunt, Aunt Jemima. 350 calories and 23 grams of fat, in one baby fist sized croissant! I could almost eat an entire Big Mac for breakfast at the same fatty expense! You know how to kick a brother when he's down don't you?

FINAL SCORE: 1 out of 5 acts of corporate racism

I guess I'm just doomed to continue eking out a breakfastless existence. It sure as fuck beats waking up 15 minutes earlier....(shudder)

Next....a much more satisfying frozen dining experience....