Anger Diary #555: Nothing Is Ever Closed

Dear Diary …

Different people have different opinions. Most people cannot accept that. They need everybody to agree with THEM. And if you don’t, you’re either a racist or a moron or a terrible human. There’s no middle ground for them.

I, on the other hand, am different. I can actually accept that we have different opinions on different topics. I may disagree with you, but that’s OK. Heck, that should be exactly what we are HOPING for, because if we all agree on everything, then we are just a drooling blob of droids that are probably being controlled by some sort of robot overlord.

That said … there is one area that I think we should be in TOTAL agreement on, and yet I am at odds with a certain group of people. OK … it’s really not a group … since there’s two of them … but it’s my children. And the topic is “the definition of when something is properly closed.”

You may probably fight a similar battle in your house. And if you have humans in your house under the age of 15 … you DEFINITELY fight this battle because their definition of when something is closed is WAY different than what I would consider to be the CORRECT definition of when something is closed.

Take a can of Pringles for example. I define them as closed when the plastic lid is securely fastened to the rest of the can. No edges exposed … no air escaping. Locked in all directions. To me … that’s closed.

To my children however, “closed” on a Pringles can is to have the lid gently sitting on the top of the can. Nothing sealed in place, and basically that lid is just lightly balancing on the top and doing very little to actually seal in the freshness of the imitation potato crisps lodged inside.

Or take a bag of chips. To me, “closed” on this bag is to tightly roll it down to the remaining chips and then put one of those little clippie things on it to hold it in place. To them? Leave it totally open and exposed to the universe … and then put that little clippie on the top anyway. Accomplishing no actual closing element, and simply acting more as a decorative ornament that hangs on top of the bag.

Great job kids … these methods should allow the food to stay fresh FOREVER! I mean … c’mon … it’s not that hard to actually close something and actually have it stay relatively fresh until the next time you go to eat it. But what do you care? You don’t pay for it anyway! (Oh God … I sound like “Cliche Dad” from some bad sitcom. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?????)

And while we’re talking snacks … I hate ‘em! And I say I “hate ‘em” because I LOVE ‘em. Curse these vile boxes of deliciousness and their effect on my general hips and guttitude. Ugh … why do Cheezits have to be so delicious and yet so horrible for you?

When I get up to heaven (if that actually happens), I gotta ask God … What the heck man?” Why did you make all the tastiest things bad for you, and then make us all want six-pack abs at the same time that forces us to eat everything other than the tasty awesome things that were bad for us. I thought you had our backs? This doesn’t feel like you had our backs.

And as a parent, you’re screwed. You gotta have those snacks in the house for the kids. And sure, you could be one of “those” parents that raises your kids on nothing but seaweed and birdseed, but where’s the fun in that? Childhood is pretty much the only time your metabolism can handle all these awesome snacks. So why in the world would you deprive kids of it during that time? They have the rest of their lives to eat kale. Why you gotta try to make ‘em do it when they’re nine?

But alas, that just means we grownups are doomed to a life of temptation and processed cheese awesomeness. And guttitude. Lots and lots of guttitude


Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.