Alright, settle in, settle in! (Looks around, adjusts mic)
So, I'm trying to get healthier, right? We all go through this phase. My doctor, bless his cotton socks, tells me, "You need more fiber." Okay, doc, noted. So I'm at the grocery store, looking at the cereal aisle. It's like a library of cardboard promises. And there's this one box, it practically GLOWS with health. Pictures of wheat fields, happy families frolicking, probably a gentle farmhouse in the background. The name is something like "Nature's Intestinal Broom."
(Mimics picking up box, squinting)
And the ingredients list? It reads like a threatened species list for plants I've never heard of. "Psyllium husk, chicory root, flaxseed meal, a sprinkle of existential dread..." Okay, maybe not the last one, but it felt like it. I buy it. I'm committed.
Next morning, I pour a bowl. It looks... like gravel. Like something you'd find at the bottom of a hamster cage after a long weekend. But I'm brave! I add milk. It doesn't soften. It just... sits there, judging me. Every spoonful is like chewing on tiny, virtuous pebbles. And the sound! (Makes crunching, scraping sound near mic). It's like my teeth are filing a complaint with my stomach.
And here's the thing no one tells you about high-fiber cereal. It's not just about the... aftermath. It's the during-math. You're sitting at your desk, trying to look professional, and your stomach starts making noises like there's a small, angry badger trying to escape. (Clutches stomach, looks alarmed) People in meetings are looking at me. "You alright there, Dave?" "Oh, yeah, fine! Just... processing... Nature's Broom. Very efficiently."
Then there's my smart speaker. I love it, I hate it. It's like having a toddler who's also a Mensa genius. The other day, I'm making coffee, half asleep, and I mumble, "Alexa, what's the weather?" And it just goes, "I'm sorry, I didn't quite get that." So I try again, clearer. "ALEXA. WEATHER." Silence. Then, from the other room, my other smart speaker, the one in the bedroom I forgot was on, pipes up, "Currently, it's 58 degrees and cloudy with a chance of YOU NEEDING TO SPEAK UP, KAREN."
First off, my name isn't Karen. Second, who programmed the sass module?! And now I'm convinced they talk to each other when I'm not home. "Did you hear him this morning? Couldn't even ask for the weather. Pathetic." "Totally. And he still hasn't fixed that leaky faucet. I've put it on his to-do list 17 times."
It's a weird world, man. We're eating hamster food and getting roasted by our appliances.
Anyway, my doctor will be thrilled. My intestines are practically swept clean. Probably find a few lost socks in there.
Thanks, you've been great! I'll be here all week, or until my smart speakers stage a coup!
