According to SadDeskLunch.com, “62% of American office workers usually eat their lunch in the same spot they work all day”. Desperate to avoid contributing to this depressing statistic, I often eat lunch in my car. Sitting in my car alone and basking in this important victory, I choked down a sadder lunch than has ever been consumed at any desk: one Mango Pomegranate Greek yogurt.
Y’all might think I’m late to the Greek yogurt party, but let me assure you: I’ve been hanging out at this shitshow for at least 5 years now. The keg is empty, the toilets are all clogged, and I’m still fistpumping like a champ on the dance floor.
Ever since we Americans got our lard-smeared paws onto Greek yogurt, we have tried EVERYTHING in our power to suppress the natural “old sour cream ‘n’ vinegar” flavor of this demonic buttpaste. We’ve continually increased the fat content (of course). We’ve added fruit and sugar. We’ve added a sad foil cage of chocolate covered granola directly over the mouth of the beast, for those who prefer a crunchy texture when consuming the souls of the innocent.
These are all worthy distraction techniques for people who enjoy eating food that requires a distraction technique (I include myself here), and they help a little. But the most confusing gimmick is the one that I experienced today. I can’t say for sure what evil, #basic spirit possessed me at Publix, but I purchased the following item with the intent to consume it:
My lunch du jour is ~75% yogurt, ~25% “Mango Pomegranate” Fruit Jiggle. (Let me pause here and say that I am all for concealing Greek yogurt’s “flavor” with fruit. When I voluntarily consent to ingest the contents of the river Styx, I select a fruit-smothered variety.) However: WHY IS THE FRUIT IN ITS OWN CUBBY?
Is there a control-freak aspect here that I am just not understanding? Who is the person that purchases this yogurt because other fruit-flavored Greek yogurts have TOO MUCH Mango Pomegranate Distraction for his or her liking? Is it weird that I allow others to determine the extent to which my lunch tastes like a sheep’s asshole? Why do I continually attempt to polish this turd which can only bring me pain, heartache, and 2pm tummy rumbles?
Greek yogurt: Carly’s Not Into That.