It's been entirely too long since Barbie and Midge have had a photo shoot and blog post. I wish I had itty bitty lab coats for them to wear during this scientific fact-finding mission. Since that particular career choice is lacking from their combined wardrobes, we will have to make the Deluxe Lunchables Dijon Mustard Study more casual, more like a neighborhood ice cream social or a family reunion with overly warm potato salad.
Week before last I had an explosive encounter with a Lunchables condiment. Most of the stains have washed out now. I'm still curious about the mustard packet, of course. I'm holding onto some resentment. If I were in a lunchroom assistant gang, there would be a rumble after the dance at the gym against the condiment gang. You don't disrespect me and my friends and get away with it! I hear fingers snapping:
When you're a Jet,
You're a Jet all the way
From your first cigarette
To your last dyin' day.
When you're a Jet,
If the spit hits the fan,
You got brothers around,
You're a family man!
You're never alone,
You're never disconnected!
You're home with your own:
When company's expected,
You're well protected!
Then you are set
With a capital J,
Which you'll never forget
Till they cart you away.
...Here come the Jets
Like a bat out of hell.
Someone gets in our way,
Someone don't feel so well!
Here come the Jets:
Little world, step aside!
Better go underground,
Better run, better hide!
This time the mustard backed down. It squirted wimpishly onto the cheese, crackers, and Oscar Mayer meats. It acknowledged my lunchroom cred.
Midge and Barbie were horrified when I ate the Lunchables evidence. That is why they have such tiny waists, and I'm a science fair reject. Saving the Andes Mint for a special occasion.
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