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Thursday, October 28, 2010

In Mourning in the Morning

It's currently 2:35 at morning and I am thoroughly depressed. Not because my life is filled with the woes of never sustaining a successful relationship with a male human. Not because my dreams are slowly drifting away from my ambitious grasp as tragically as Mufasa slipped away from Simba. It's because I can no longer drink milk.




WHAT!?!




Sure, your first reaction is, "Why Brie, why don't you just pop a couple of help-me-eat-lactose pills and stop bothering me about your problems?" I have tried this method. Because like you, arrogant stranger, I thought that I was lactose intolerant. This was when I was young and naive.







The truth is, I cannot drink milk - because I am allergic. A moment of silence please.



Oh ok, or you could just laugh at how dramatic I am being. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?


No whipped cream. No milkshakes. No yogurt. No cheese (this doesn't bother me so much).


You still don't get it do you? No ice cream. POP QUIZ: Why was Hitler so evil? Because he was never allowed the delight that ice cream can bring a child of 12. As a result he killed people who were able to enjoy the splendor of crystallized ice suspending milk proteins and sugar and a dash of vanilla any day of the week. Don't quote me on that.






You like Christmas? Of course you do. Because the combination of heavy cream, cream, milk, eggs, nutmeg, and half a bottle of rum reminds you of how Jesus saved the world. But now Christmas will kill me if I try to enjoy it. Even Sandy Claws himself travels house to house chugging as much milk as he can before Rudolph complains about back pain from the added calories he has to drag on his transatlantic trek. If milk makes Sandy Claws happy, why can't I enjoy it. Is it because I'm Black? <<< It's ok to laugh at this.


But it isn't all bad in soon-to-be calcium deficient town. Now I get the chore of attempting to scrub hives off my body with my bare hands. I wish I had bear hands. Curse you homophones!








And you heard me right - hives. HIVES. No better way to let the world know you let your deadly milk addiction control you like having red circles of mockery blotching your skin like a make-up job done by a five-year-old hopped up on lucky charms.








So as I sit here contemplating how I am going to live the rest of my life without milk while scratching vigorously at every inch of my body, (no you don't get it - EVERY INCH. Under my nails, my auricles, my eyelids people, this is serious), you enjoy neglecting that delicious vessel of calcium protein juice you stow in your fridge.




Footnote: If anyone is a doctor, how long do I have to live?

4 comments:

  1. First REAL problem is me on FB at this hour. Now your turn...Hitler...REALLY?! We will go to Whole Foods and seek out options because I would hate for you to go on a killing spree or not celebrate Christmas. And...The picture of the "The Past" needs to be in the Louvre next to that Mona chick.

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  2. haha you are so funny!

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  3. Technically speaking, you should already be dead.

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  4. this is like the end of the world =.+

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