My Ketchup Fancy
Anne Marie recently took advantage of a deal at our supermarket: 10 bottles of ketchup for $10.00. She brought them home and lined them up neatly on our shelf, so that I could admire the great deal she made. Then I got home, and when she showed me all those bottles lined up perfectly, the conversation went something like this:
ME: Oh, ten bottles of ketchup!
Anne Marie: Yes, all for ten dollars! Can you believe it?
ME: Great ... um, only ten?
Anne Marie: What's the matter?
ME: Well, ten will last a little while. What will happen on Monday?
Anne Marie: What's Monday?
ME: Monday is when all this bottles of ketchup will be gone. What then?
Anne Marie: You have more than enough there to get you through the weekend.
ME: Yeah, just barely
And so on. It's because of conversations like this that Anne Marie believes I have a ketchup problem. I don't think I have a ketchup problem. Okay, I'll admit to sometimes fantasizing I had an 800-gallon tank beneath my house specifically for ketchup. I could get it delivered in a big tanker truck once a week from Pittsburgh. I'll also admit that I once flubbed a high school health quiz when I listed the four major food groups as meat, bread, vegetables and Heinz, but I don't think these events mean I have a problem.
Obsession, addiction, fetish maybe, but not a problem. In my defense I think I have matured over the years to the point where I don't use ketchup as frequently as I used to when I was a child. For example, I do not put ketchup on my mashed potatoes anymore. (That's why God invented mustard!) I have seen the novelty tee shirt that proudly proclaims that the wearer will put ketchup on ketchup. I'm a bit shocked at such gluttony, but I'm more shocked that I didn't think of that idea first.
I suppose I should seek out a support group, but for the time being I don't believe my ketchup fancy is necessarily detrimental to society at large. However, I should warn everyone - if you ever come between me and my bottle of ketchup, well let's just say you should probably have your affairs in order.
ME: Oh, ten bottles of ketchup!
Anne Marie: Yes, all for ten dollars! Can you believe it?
ME: Great ... um, only ten?
Anne Marie: What's the matter?
ME: Well, ten will last a little while. What will happen on Monday?
Anne Marie: What's Monday?
ME: Monday is when all this bottles of ketchup will be gone. What then?
Anne Marie: You have more than enough there to get you through the weekend.
ME: Yeah, just barely
And so on. It's because of conversations like this that Anne Marie believes I have a ketchup problem. I don't think I have a ketchup problem. Okay, I'll admit to sometimes fantasizing I had an 800-gallon tank beneath my house specifically for ketchup. I could get it delivered in a big tanker truck once a week from Pittsburgh. I'll also admit that I once flubbed a high school health quiz when I listed the four major food groups as meat, bread, vegetables and Heinz, but I don't think these events mean I have a problem.
Obsession, addiction, fetish maybe, but not a problem. In my defense I think I have matured over the years to the point where I don't use ketchup as frequently as I used to when I was a child. For example, I do not put ketchup on my mashed potatoes anymore. (That's why God invented mustard!) I have seen the novelty tee shirt that proudly proclaims that the wearer will put ketchup on ketchup. I'm a bit shocked at such gluttony, but I'm more shocked that I didn't think of that idea first.
I suppose I should seek out a support group, but for the time being I don't believe my ketchup fancy is necessarily detrimental to society at large. However, I should warn everyone - if you ever come between me and my bottle of ketchup, well let's just say you should probably have your affairs in order.
posted by todd gunther | 6:28 AM
2 Comments:
Believe me, you were addicted to ketchup before you could pronounce the word "ketchup".
One who knows
Ya know Todd-o, the obsessed, the addicted and the fetisher (if there is such a word, of course there I just made it up, it means one –er possessed with a fetish) anyway, these people never think that they have a problem…my son is having the same love affair with ketchup (formerly spelled catsup), we too like to buy ketchup to go with his ketchup which is what the sweet, kindhearted, trying to keep up Anne Marie to trying to do.
Things stop when there’s no ketchup in the house, we literally interrupt meals to go and buy the stuff.
Ya know, Todd, I have it on good authority, quiet as it is kept, that this was the forbidden fruit but you might want to keep that under your hat, you didn’t hear it from me.
Karen
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