The Pillsbury Dough Boy has it out for me. I'm convinced. Every night, he comes to my house via big screen to show me what he's got. Delicate, flaky, melt-in-yo-mouth Crescent Rolls. Cinnamon rolls with their own tub of icing...happiness in a foil tube. And then...the chocolate chip cookies. I find myself pleading with the flat screen...Not the chocolate chip cookies!!! But alas...the dough boy brings the just-from-the-oven morsels right to me. And then breaks them apart to show me how the chocolate is still hot.
It seems I have a choice to make when it comes to the Pillsbury Dough Boy. Hate him. Or date him. It would be so easy to date him. He is the perfect man, really. He cooks, for one thing. All my favorites. And he's so sweet. I don't think he would ever stray. Although it would kill me if I found him wearing someone else's oven mitt. And he's so funny. He's always laughing. Or breaking the awkward family silence with his impeccable comedic timing. In the commercial where the brothers are about to throw down over the last Crescent Roll, he appears just in time with a fresh basket and a doughy belly laugh. My hero...the Dough Boy.
I've figured it out. The one thing we all need to make it through the four letter word called DIET. It's not more will power. Or five hours of intense exercise a day. Or salmon and spinach at every meal. No. We need comedy writers. The same one who wrote the Golden Girls through seven seasons of cheesecake and The Nanny through all her seasons eating everything else. I feel like Tom Hanks in The Money Pit immediately after the bathtub falls through the floor and he starts to laugh hysterically. Tell me again how I'm supposed to make it through the next five haircuts with all the stresses of life while constantly being bombarded with images of all my favorite foods? If not on TV...I have the real life version at work, at the supermarket, at restaurants. I mean, at work today, one parent brought a rotating...rotating...multi-tiered cupcake stand. Complete with Martha Stewart-esque cupcakes and cookies. Are you freakin' kidding me? Where's Mark Cherry? I need a comedy writer to script me through this.