For years, I’ve thought on and off about Mr. Coffee. To be perfectly clear, I have nothing against the guy. In fact, I think he makes a great cup of coffee. Instead, my wonderment has to do with Mrs. Coffee. Where the heck is she? Or was there ever such a person? Is Mr. Coffee a lifelong bachelor or did he and Mrs. Coffee go splitsville and I just missed hearing about it?
I’m not a regular reader of those supermarket magazines, but I know for certain that if there was ever any news about a Mr. and Mrs. Coffee breakup, it would’ve been splashed all over the cover. If so, I would’ve caught it, just as I caught another breaking story. Someone spotted the Pillsbury Doughboy at a weight reduction clinic. There’s even a grainy shot of him on a yoga mat, and it isn’t pretty.
I occasionally wonder if Duncan Hines and Betty Crocker know each other. After all, they’re stocked in the same aisle, sometimes right next to each other and have a lot of kitchen wizardry and wooden spoons in common.
I frequently see signs about “Gluten Free” and wonder, since it’s free, where I can get some. But there’s never any small print providing directions or attempting to clarify things. But that’s okay. I’m thinking I wouldn’t like it anyway and would probably return it. But where would I take it?
How come we never hear anything about Laura Scudder? She makes a mean batch of peanut butter, despite forcing me to bend a spoon and tear a wrist tendon while trying to stir it. I can see why she wouldn’t want to hang with Peter Pan, as he’s too young and an imagined character. However, I have heard rumors about Laura and Chef Boyardee, but can neither confirm nor deny them.
I also feel a little deceived whenever I go to Bed, Bath & Beyond. Despite asking every time I’m in one of their stores, no one can point me to the “Beyond” section. The Bed and Bath merchandise is easily found. But whatever’s in the “Beyond” department is a mystery. Maybe there’s a secret door somewhere behind the display of lemon-scented garbage disposer balls. I’ll take a closer look next time.
That brings me to that Mike Lindell guy of “My Pillow” fame. Have you ever seen anyone prouder of their pillow? If I were to purchase one from him, would he still consider it his pillow? Or would it now become my pillow? And when, exactly, does it officially become MY pillow? Why does one guy have to have so many pillows he considers his? Also, if I purchased two, would they then be called My Pillows?
Admittedly, none of these are problems worthy of a think tank or some cumbersome governmental committee. But let’s all work together to get them cleared up.
Doing so will give me more time to try to pull my spoon out of Laura’s peanut butter.
An ad agency creative director turned freelance writer, James is enjoying his newfound creative freedom. During his career, he was once challenged to find features and benefits in a well-known beauty soap. Today, he’s free to lather up stories that bring smiles and joy while never leaving a ring in the tub.