Why is this kid a wanted felon? Well, he's not. I mean, he might be someday; I don't know his parents or if they give a damn about his upbringing. But little Charlie Manson's not concerned about parole in this photo --> he's enjoying a sweet sweet Rocket Pop(sicle). I hate when I have a craving for something totally weird and can't satisfy it.
This very same issue began today's fiasco. Of course, I do all my slacking off here at work (like now) and that includes indulging my cravings. I've been pretty good about staying healthy lately. This morning, I brought delicious flax cereal with fresh strawberries for lunch. Then, I was (once again) overwhelmed by my Rocket craving. I haven't had one of these things in years and sweets aren't really my bag. But today, I found it consuming me.
After writing an email to Mr. RocketPop and doing Rocket research on my bosses dime, I decided if anything was worth leaving work for, it was this craving. I quickly told my boss I was having a medical emergency and ran from the building screaming. I stopped at the first grocery store that was within 50 miles of my office. I squealed into the parking lot on two wheels only to discover this alluring food fair had fake-o rockets.
Why do companies do this? They take something awesome and they turn it into something "almost-the-same-but-less-awesome". The box depicted the sweet frozen treat as red (check), white (check) and purple (wtf?). Well, it was close enough and they were called Rockets. I ran out of the store without paying, screaming that my boss was having a medical emergency. I got in the car, rolled up the windows, pulled down the sun visors and broke into the box. They didn't taste like real rockets at all! And the colored depiction on the box was just plain false advertising! It may shock you to know that the phallic frozen pop I pulled from the soggy cardboard box was PINK, white and purple. Now I'm no "Rocket" scientist but this couldn't possibly meet the delicious frozen-pop specs.
Plan B was activated and kicked into high gear. I hit up a gas station, a mom and pop food store and an Orange Julius. No luck anywhere! And then, like a beacon in the night, giant black letters emerged in my splattered windshield. God bless you, Corporate America. Superstore. It was there I found the tasty treats. The box denoted the classic red, white and blue smiling popsicle. Everything happened so fast from there. I remember parading the box, proudly hoisting it above my shoulders as I did a victory lap around frozen foods. There was high-fiving, butt-slapping and paging on aisle 13b.
Next thing you know I was back in the office graciously offering everyone a 'treat' for the day. This was, of course, after I had shredded the box like a manic hamster and attacked the flavored ice like a man on fire. After 4 popsicles, I decided to call it a job well done.
I'm packing up the laptop now and heading out. It's been an incredibly emotionally exhausting day. Mmm... I sure could go for a rocket pop.
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