McSweeney’s Friday: Tilla-Moos
If I can remember to do so, every Friday I’ll post something interesting that I saw on the McSweeney’s Internet Tendency web site. Odds are good I’m going to forget. Still, at least you’ll enjoy one weeks’ worth.
Note that I’m only doing this because I can’t find any legalese on the site that says this is a no-no. Intuitively I guess I know I shouldn’t do this, but I’m not selling it, I’m not taking credit for it, and I’m doing it to educate people on the quality of information that the site contains. I believe Fair Use kicked in somewhere around the word “educate.” If not, McSweeney’s, tell me to cut the crap.
With that said, here’s this week’s offering from Reviews of New Food:
Tilla-Moos
Submitted by Whitey Eckerson
I’ve laid out two pairs of tweezers and a pair of toenail scissors on the table in front of me. Tilla-Moos come individually wrapped in an air-tight vacuum, and there’s little room for error. It’s less pleasing to eat a damaged miniature cheese brick.
Suddenly, my wife taps me on the shoulder and says, “Phone for you.”
“Message, message, take a message!” I cry.
My fingers are greasy with cheese sweat and regular sweat. I apprehend the cheese brick.
Just then my stomach taps me on the arm and says, “Dude, another one? What’s the deal? How about a pear or some hot water and lemon?”
I warm the serrated edges of the packaging by massaging them between my thumb and forefinger. Shallow breaths in through the mouth, out through the nose. I make the initial cut with the toenail scissors and set them back on the table with shaking hands. Taking a tweezer in each hand, I carefully work the initial cut toward the exact center of the edge of the brick. Veins appear all over my head. I take a flap of plastic between my teeth and rip and tear at it like a lunatic and pretty much eat the cheese right through the packaging.
I recommend Tilla-Moos to people who like heist films.
My favorite was always this one:
Kellogg’s S’mores Pop-Tarts
Submitted by Marshall Norton Jr.
She shoved me under her bed and told me not to move. Her father had gotten home earlier than expected. As the minutes passed, I inventoried the various pieces of dirty laundry and discarded plates under her bed with me.
A little later, her face appeared, upside-down. “They’re leaving soon. I’ll come back when they’re gone. Here, have some,” she said, offering me a piece of the Pop-Tart she’d brought up on a plate. I thought it best not to ask about the other plates for the moment.
Comment by Jenny — April 21, 2007 @ 7:07 pm
Now THAT’S quality writin’.
Comment by erat — April 25, 2007 @ 2:43 pm
…and I told you I’d forget to post something the following Friday, didn’t I? My mind is gone.
Comment by erat — April 25, 2007 @ 2:45 pm