This was back in 2007 (the incident occurred in 2005/2006). If you want to see the actual post on the actual site (because you don’t believe me, or–shudder–you’ve never read McSweeney’s Internet Tendency) there’s a link below, and then you should use your browser’s search function to search my name. If you’re heading over to McSweeney’s for the first time, I’ll see you another day. Because McSweeney’s is an awesome time vortex.
Submitted by Seema Reza
During the course of my son Ali’s life, I’ve learned about trans fats and pesticides and things my mother did wrong. So I eat fresh organic berries and drink pomegranate juice and don’t buy sugary cereals. One afternoon, though, I picked Ali up from kindergarten, swung my station wagon into a spot at the mainstream grocery store, slid my pregnant body out from the tight space behind the wheel, and, as I opened his door, announced, “It’s Junky Tuesday.”
As we approached the store, the glass door swung open with reverence. We skirted the produce section and targeted the snack-food aisle. I chose spicy Cheetos. He chose Doritos. We agreed on Funyuns. Into the cart went a box of Swiss cake rolls, a tub of mini glazed donuts, and a six-pack of ginger beer.
At home, we turned on the Food Network (a compromise between General Hospital and The Magic School Bus) and spilled one of the ginger beers on the futon. When we were a third of the way through the Cheetos and Doritos and halfway through the Funyuns and had eaten a couple of donuts and split one package of the cake rolls, we couldn’t eat anymore. I heaved myself up and vomited a bit, and Ali retired to his bathroom with a long book. We’ll do it again sometime.