Nic Narrates

Today, I experienced something so foul, so unholy, that I had to decry its facade of tastiness and expose its stealth-like toolbaggery for what it is. Today, I ate salt and vinegar potato chips for the first time. Boo. Hiss.

After opening the bag, my first thought was that they smelled like the vinegar water my mom made me use when I was growing up to wash the windows with because she believed it cleaned better than Windex. Not exactly an enticing selling point of a food product, but I didn’t let that deter me from actually trying the alleged treat.

It took me nearly forty-five minutes to finish the bag from Jimmy John’s. After the first chip, I realized that they taste like burning. Yes, burning. Also, that I do not like them. At all. But I didn’t think that was reason enough to simply stop eating them. Maybe I would grow to like them, I thought. Maybe they’re an acquired taste.

Which is when I decided to get strategic. I began to throw each subsequent chip to the back of my mouth to avoid the “tastes like burning” product feature. I also applied lip gloss in case any of that crazy-ass sea salt got on my lips (seriously, why is sea salt so much stronger than regular salt?).

As I was applying said layer of wax, my co-workers, Graphic Designer Friend and Emo attempted to stage an intervention. Even though they found my plight comical, they pointed out that I needn’t finish the bag if I found them that terrible, that I could just throw them out. But, you know, starving kids in Ethiopia, right? So I soldiered on.

I began to break out in a sweat. I tried to avoid the ginormous chip chunks, all extra sea-salty and potatoey. My tastebuds were revolting against me. I might have somehow accidentally gotten sea salt in my eye at one point. The chips were winning.

But then, with her sword drawn (really, she had a sword. A foam one that she and Emo bought me when I was feeling weak and sad at work one day), Graphic Designer Friend stepped in and smashed the bag and the two remaining chip chunks, knocking them to the floor. She simply couldn’t bear to see me grimace and squint my way through another minute of salt and vinegar toolbaggery. A true friend if you ask me.

For my part, I’ve had my fill of salt and vinegar flavored chips and their wanton tastebud searing ways. Never. Again.

Filed under: "work", poor choices, toolbaggery by Nic