“Popcorn Fever”Have you ever had new car fever? Scary isn’t it? You start noticing every little thing wrong with your current vehicle. Too few cupholders, worn mats and cluttered glove compartment or pullout. Whichever. And, naturally, you begin focusing big time on the new models.
If you establish a preference for one particular model, you’re either gonna take out a loan or feel sorry for yourself for the rest of your miserable life.
Car fever is especially a nightmare if your spouse has it and you don’t. I’ve got to believe the devil smiles when that happens.
Unfortunately, that’s what’s happening right now in the Hayter household. I’ve got the fever and Kay’s 98.6. Maybe a little lower. It’s not car fever I have, though. What I’ve got is popcorn popper fever. A couple of you probably guessed that.
The popcorn popper I want sells for $474. It’s like the one in the theatre only not as big. A lot not as big. The popper pot holds only six ounces of kernels. For $600 I can get one with an eight-ounce pot. I see no need to push for an extra two ounces.
I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, when is the zombie craze going to end? I beg you to not let your mind drift. This is serious. Some of you don’t care about my dilemma because you don’t fully appreciate popcorn.
I was raised on popcorn. My first memory is of me trying to get a fistful of popcorn away from Dennis. Hard to do much damage with only one tooth. Mom used to pop corn in our old burned up pot. Nobody remembered what it looked like new. Not sure where it even came from.
Mom would stick that pot an open flame and shake it till her teeth rattled. Throw it in a bowl and set it in the middle of the floor. To this day, I can’t eat popcorn slowly. I shove it in my mouth like I’m one of nine pigs at a six-pig trough.
Scary thing was, Mom’s popcorn wasn’t all that good. Only every third kernel popped. Dad bought a cheap kind called Hope-it-Pops.
Theatres don’t buy cheap popcorn. They buy the best corn and butter. They sell the stuff only to theatres… and people who own theatre popcorn poppers. There’s some kind of guild.
I’ve made no secret of the fact that I go to the movie mostly for the popcorn. I can rent a movie, but I can’t rent popcorn. I’ve tried.
Yes, I realize that microwave popcorn is good. It’s just not movie popcorn. Orville Red invented microwave “Movie Popcorn.” And, were he still alive, I would slap him. Calling a moccasin a boot does not make it one. (Chief Red Cloud said that. Probably.)
The best thing about movie popcorn is that Kay doesn’t eat much of it. She thinks it’s not good for her. Too much salt and butter. Plus, when it hits your colon, it has an 18 year half-life.
I refuse to dissuade Kay from her silly concerns about popcorn. I might’ve been born at night, but it wasn’t last night. (Can’t believe I worked that in.)
No, the only way I’m getting my mini corn popper is by showing Kay the math. I could probably buy over a dozen poppers for the cost of one Tempur-Pedic mattress. That’s the fever Kay has. She apparently wants to put wine glasses on the bed and jump up and down.
Only people who have ‘em, now how much a Tempu-Pedic cost, and they’re keeping quiet. One ad announces that it’ll sell Kay a mattress at a savings of $1500. That scares the daylights out of me.
It all has to do with priorities. What’s more important, a good night’s sleep or all the movie popcorn you can eat anytime you want? Yet, Kay still can’t see the logic. Oh yeah, the devil is grinning bigtime.
To see Brad and Mark’s latest restaurant review, click on pic.