Tuesday, May 01, 2007

Norma Rye

So, I've eaten this one brand of bread for as long as I can fucking remember. It's dense, it's dry and it's chock-fulla nuts and spelt and toenails and staples and husks and other undigestible crap that just loofahs (loaf-ahs?) out my colon until I'm shiny and glisten-y, from the inside on out. I'm not even sure I have enjoyed eating this bread for, lo, these twenty-plus years, but it's the bread I eat, godammit, so lay the fuck off. This is my fiber-y friend:



Anywhich, a couple of months ago, the Old Lady and I noticed (yes, she cleans her colon with the same loafah) that we couldn't find our bread anywhere. Not at Kroger, not at Meijer, hell, we couldn't even find it at the Co-op, where the stinky, hairy people live. I could feel my rectum tightening as I searched far and wide for my yeasty colon-cleanser, but no matter where I looked, I ended up loafless.

Then I notice this bullfuck staring at me from the shelf where my old Brownberry used to perch:



What the shit?! They're fucking with my loaf! Then I thought, "Hold yer ass there, Crabbydad. Maybe they just changed the packaging. Sure, it's called 'Arnold' instead of 'Brownberry' now, but at least give it a shot." So I bought the imposter bag and guess what -- THEY FUCKED WITH MY LOAF! It was all wrong. Doughy and soft, no nuts or toenails, and to top it off, it was sweet! Motherfuckers!

My whole world turned upside-down. Left was right, stop was go... it was like someone telling me that, suddenly, I was supposed to wear my underwear on the outside of my pants. I could just feel the log-jam forming in my small intestine. I might never shit again! I'd be... crabstipated!

So, I wrote an e-mail to the Arnold Bread Company and gave them the ol' what-for. I don't remember what I actually typed, in my fiber-deprived stupor, but it was something to the effect of, "If you don't immediately switch back to the original Brownberry Natural Wheat bread recipe, I'm gonna drive on over to Horsham, Pennsylvania and take a 36-foot-long, steaming, petrified dump on your goddamn doorstep. Sincerely, Crabbydad."

Well, I don't know if I was the turd that broke the camel's ass, but this morning, I received an e-mail from a Ms. Victoria Petrakis from GW Bakeries saying, and I quote:

"A decision has been made to bring back the original Natural Wheat Bread. You should find it on the shelves by the end of June."

Ms. Victoria Petrakis: I'd drive to Horsham, Pennsylvania and hug you, but I can't move because of the 36-foot-long, petrified dump that's stuck in my dessicated colon. I'll hug you sometime in the beginning of July. I thank you from the bottom of my sealed-shut bung.

Boy, it'll sure be nice to get the Brownberries a-flowin' again.

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

That's one for the ages. Crabstipated! Brownberries! Practically wipes itself!

Jerry said...

Go eat some Wendy's fast food. Usually does the trick for me.

Hope you get your loaf back so that you can pinch a loaf, so to speak.

Jon said...

If it was me, I think I'd talk to Mr. Z about including "Ms. Victoria Petrakis' Messy Room" or "Computer Buddies, Featuring Ms. Victoria Petrakis" in his new television lineup.

Or at least throw some greek shit in there somewhere. Just make sure he doesn't include Jimmy the Greek in any of the programming. That guy was kinda racist.

crabbydad said...

Yeah, there does seem to be a dearth of greeks in the programming. I think Stinky McSewer is Scottish, though. And I'm pretty sure Herry Maximum is Roman... so that's close.

Frannie Parker said...

I just cried laughing at this post, crabbydad. I too love the fibery poo.

Not Chris said...

Weird. Apparently you and I eat the same bread. And both suffered when it disappeared.