I’ve never been crazy about beef jerky. It’s about as interesting as chewing on a salty shoe. Dogs are less picky, so we recently started buying chicken jerky treats for our dogs. The dried-out slices of chicken parts are long and thin and look like bacon. The dogs love them and everyday at 5:00 p.m. they come running around and begging for the treats. Lately I’ve noticed when I pull them from the bag, they look really good. They smell like dried, processed chicken, but as I’ve said, they look like bacon. And what’s not to love about bacon? I’ve found myself really wanting to try one.
It’s crazy, I know! I’m sure it would break my teeth and make me long for the salty rubber flavor of a Slim Jim. But when I look at them, I think of Sunday brunch and a juicy, fat slice of crispy bacon. And French toast with a side of hash browns. And champagne. I really want to eat one of these treats.
Then I realized if I wanted to make an entertaining blog about it, I should film myself eating it and post it on youtube. I could title it “Crazy Guy Eats Dog Treats.” And now for your viewing pleasure, here’s the clip…
No I couldn’t do it. I finally realized there’re probably scarier videos out there and sure enough, a brief search leads to “Girl Eats Dog Food Naked.” (It’s a 2-minute clip so I’ll wait here until you finish.)
This scenario reminds me of another problem I have: when I’m doing laundry and I pour the liquid detergent into the cap, I have to remind myself not to drink it. I have no desire to drink it, but for some reason my brain is reminded of pouring a glass of water or wine and has to nudge me that this is indeed not wine. (Amazingly, I don’t have this problem with bleach but maybe that’s because I pour the bleach directly into the water rather than a measuring cup.)
After I pour in the detergent, I breathe a sigh of relief that once again I have avoided drinking it but then find myself going over scenarios of what I should do the day that I actually do drink it. Hopefully I’ll catch myself before I drink too much. If not, I’ll perform a self-Heimlich maneuver by thrusting my stomach against the washing machine lid. Then I’ll rinse my mouth out with water. And hopefully the worst thing that happens is I burp soap bubbles for a few days. Because I’m certainly not telling St. Pauli Girl.
She’ll probably say, “Why did you do that?”
“I don’t know. Seemed like a good idea. I think my mind noticed that it was a rare vintage.”
So I struggle through my daily life trying not to eat the dog treats and drinking laundry detergent though I know at some point in the future, I will fail. Perhaps if I just eat a dog treat today, that will stop me from ever putting anything stupid in my mouth again. At least that’s the excuse I’ll use when St. Pauli Girl catches me with a hunk of dog jerky hanging out of my mouth.