Letters To My Favourite Products: Oat Milk.

Dear So Good Oat Milk,

You’re not just a fridge staple anymore, you’ve become a true hero of mine. You saved cereal. Ever since dairy started playing up on me the idea of consuming anything that resembled milk sadly soured. Imagine sitting across from a date, sipping your coffee and realising you have 10, maybe 11 minutes tops to find a bathroom before your world came crashing down. Forget about your date, you can’t even process anything she’s saying.  It’s over. You’re not going to manage a proper goodbye, either. You simply don’t have the time. One sudden move can reduce that 10 or 11 minutes to a few seconds if you’re not careful. That is what happens when milk turns to the dark side. You’re lactose intolerant, and if you’re not careful the whole cafe is going to know about it. So things needed to change.

For a while there I was a soy advocate, warming to its flavour and indulging in the nuttiness that it added to my cereal and coffee. Then Google ruined Soy. I’m not going to go into it, the why or how it happened; but it’s over between soy and I. The thing is: when you’re the type of person who craves cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner, you’re not just going to give up on beige coloured liquid which vaguely resembles milk altogether. No fucking way. You’re going to find a replacement, real fast. That was when almond milk came onto the scene. First I tried it sweet (not great), then unsweetened. The best word to describe the flavour of unsweetened almond milk is invisible. It didn’t leave a bad taste in my mouth, it simply left no taste at all.

You see, I didn’t just want liquid on my cereal for liquids sake. I wanted something that complemented my cereal, gave it layers, and a purpose, while remaining milky for old-times sake. And there you were, spawned from the same grains that gave me porridge. You were oaty and milky, you were flavoursome, you were high in fibre, and folic acid, and vitamin E and phytochemicals. You’re fucking cool Oat Milk. I’m not looking any further, as far as I’m concerned you are milk. End of story.

Yours forever,

Chris

P.S

See you in the morning…

 

 

The Cubicle Stand Off

Three men sit patiently with their pants around their ankles. It’s a cubicle stand off (or sit off). Tension mounts. Stomachs groan. Nobody knows who they’re up against within the vague privacy of their cubicle walls. Even so, nobody wants to make the first bowl movement, or pass wind within earshot of the other. So they wait. And wait. And wait. Then one man caves. He flushes the toilet; unable to cope with the pressure, he leaves without letting it go. He’ll have to hold it in until the coast is clear, which could be all day, it’s a busy office, and coffee flows freely.

It’s down to just… The door opens. Someone new enters. Both men hold their breath. Luckily, he unzips. He’s just taking a leak. This will buy them some time, not that they needed it. The new comer is oblivious to the dual and lets one rip. Both men silently applaud his bravery, whilst clutching their knees in jealousy. The man leaves without washing his hands. Both men ponder his identity.

They’ve been missing from their desks for over 20 minutes now. That’s enough time to warrant suspicion. Nothing they haven’t dealt with before. Both have survived investigation from desk neighbours over the course of their careers. Even so, the inability to defecate in public has cost them great jobs in the past.

Neither man moves any closer to letting go. What they’re holding inside now is much more than a plate of lunch that has overstayed its welcome. No, they’re holding onto their dignity. They’ve waited this long, what’s another five minutes? Then the fire alarm sounds, activating the sprinklers. Sitting their drenched, neither man moves. Instead, they wait. And wait. And wait.