Tuesday, May 31, 2011

A Delicious But Anger Inspiring Taste Treat

I went to a potluck on Sunday to celebrate the birthday of a friend of mine, and to my utter shock and disbelief, someone I didn’t know became upset with me! Those of you who know me are likely thinking “Dead Acorn, given your annoying mannerisms and social ineptitude, I’m surprised that this doesn’t happen more often.” Those of you who do not know me are likely thinking the very same thing. To be honest, the relative infrequency of occurrences during which strangers react toward me with rage does surprise me a bit, and I must say that I’m impressed with the self-control of the populace at large.

Anyway, the strange thing about the whole situation was not so much that a stranger was upset with me, but the reason for the ire:


Yes, Jell-O – that wonderfully jiggly treat. (To my reader in Pocatello: yes, Jell-O can be eaten as a dessert. It’s not just for wrestling.) I had made up some Jell-O cups the evening before – not just any Jell-O cups, either, mind you! These Jell-O cups had a layer of green on the bottom, a layer of crushed walnuts in the middle, and a layer of red on the top, all topped off with whipped cream! They were spectacular! (Again, to my reader in Pocatello: Yes, whipped cream can be used outside of the bedroom.)

I arrived fashionably late, and placed the Jell-O cups in the fridge as my fellow party-goers “oohed” and “ahhed” at the magnificence of my contribution. I know that it was really the spoon of Jeebus that had stirred the Jell-O during its preparation, for the creation of such beauty is surely beyond my capabilities, but I cannot deny feeling a bit of pride. I’ll surely burn in hell for such a transgression, I know.

So toward the end of the evening, this gentleman, who had, I sensed, done more than his part to make sure that there would be no beers left over, started getting all up in my grill about making Jell-O cups. I thought he was being facetious at first, as being attacked as less than manly* because I made layered, walnut-infused Jell-O cups hadn’t really ever occurred to me as being possible. But serious he was, and I was told later that he had been pissed off about it since I first unveiled them. Odd.

Eventually, he left in the cab that was there for him. (One funny aspect of the story is that the cab driver came inside and had some dinner and chatted while he waited for this guy for about a half an hour, meter running all the while. He was quite a pleasant fellow.) I have to believe that there exists, somewhere in this stranger’s past, a tragic Jell-O-related tale underlying the day’s happenings. Perhaps he had always wanted a pony as a child, but never got one, and he believes that it was because Kraft Foods used all of the pony hooves to grind up for their product. Or maybe he lost a beloved pet in the Great Jell-O Flood of ought-two. In any case, I hope that someday he is able to face his demons.

I wonder if he listens to Dead Kennedys.

* Yes, that really seemed to be the issue. Seriously.


Domestic Oub said...

That is mad. But you do realise that if he was equating jello and manliness, and appearing quite bolshy about it all - u do know what that means? Obviously a closet jellosexual.

I learnt all I ever needed about psychology from Glee.

The Dead Acorn said...

I'm pretty sure you're on to something there. Imagine if I would have used those little miniature pastel-colored marshmallows. And Glee seems as valid a source of psychology knowledge as any Freud textbook.