I've been had

They got me.

The Oreo's adverts got me. In 25 years, despite more than one trip to America starting at the age of 3 (which I remember clearly for getting to experience my first - though not last - earthquake) I have never been lured by an Oreo before and then suddenly, without much warning, I turn around and Oreo's are everywhere. They blink at me all welcoming in soothing blue packaging and stylish monochrome outfits. Children sit on stone steps and teach their dogs how to eat them in EVERY SINGLE Tru Calling advert break (not that my life is based around being sat in front of Sky1 at 2pm every weekday to watch this abysmal show that even the combined powers of Zach Galifianakis, Eliza Dushku, and Jane Espenson couldn't save, I especially don't do this considering I've seen all the episodes at least twice before and couldn't even describe it as a 'guilty pleasure' because I derive no pleasure out of it - just shame and unending embarrassment for all those concerned in its production... I digress...). All I see, wherever I look (in my, admittedly narrow, field of vision) is Oreo's. A girl can only be so strong for so long.

Now all I do is think about when I can next eat an Oreo. Peel off the excitingly dark first biscuit and dip three-quarters of it in my tea for exactly three seconds whilst holding the accompanying biscuit-filling combo aloft in anticipation of the rest of the ritual. I then allow the dipped three-quarters to dissolve on my tongue. It crunches a little bit whilst it melts and tastes like nothing else. Every single time I am reminded of the Oreo's milkshake I once tried in Lori's diner in Fisherman's Wharf. I can see the red vinyl booths and silver tables. I remember the tiny blond waitress looking like the emo offspring of Lucy Ricardo. I feel the misty sea air when I step outside the restaurant. The greyness engulfing me in a smell unique to San Fransisco. With such Proutisian powers is there any wonder I fell in lust with these crunchy little tea-time friends?

The ritual however is far from over. Next I have to lick all the filling off the other biscuit. Ideally it just peels off but sometimes I have to scrape with my teeth and feel the sweetness start eroding enamel. The texture is like toothpaste. That's the only way of describing it. Culinery delights are rarely likened to toothpaste but, trust me, toothpaste is da shizz. Especially sweet sweet candy toothpaste that they've put in this delicious-yet-bizarro chocolate sandwich. I then repeat step one with the second chocolate 'cookie' layer. Sometimes I have to cow-tongue the toothpaste side (a technique that can *clears throat* be employed in other endeavors) to make sure all the sweet sweetness is off. At no time must any of the layers be consumed together. This is SICK AND WRONG. If I wanted to get puke in my mouth I'd stick my fingers down my throat. Eating the cookie as a normal cookie is EVIL ON EVERY LEVEL. Just make sure you bear that in mind.

If all of this sounds a bit labourious then you obviously don't understand what it is to really enjoy your food. This is why the French take two hours for lunch. Food should be savoured and enjoyed. Admittedly, when people say shit like they are rarely talking about the delights of Oreo's but still; the point is valid.

Anyway, yeah, I like Oreo's now. Just so you know.

P.S. I have just seen The Beautician and The Beast is on in a minute. I have seen this film more times than any other and in more countries than any other. This is not a joke. I repeat, this is NOT a joke. It follows me around. If I were a religious or superstitious type I'd think God or The Fates were trying to communicate something to me in a Fran Drescher vehicle with an ill-advised turn from Timothy Dalton by her side. But I'm not. However, maybe just to be sure I'd should watch it again and look for clues to my future or my destiny. You never can tell with these things can you?