You're Doing It All Wrong

"Gottenyu!" as my Russian grandparents taught my Brooklyn father to say, and then he passed it on to me. With all the shockers flying around the Twittersphere, I wasn't sure I could take any more disturbing updates. But this morning, this investigative report on peanut butter shook me to the core of my being. Why? I'll tell you why. Because I'm all about the natural peanut butter. My obsession with natural peanut butter is a thing. I eat a tablespoon every day. Ok, fine, maybe a little bit more than a tablespoon. What I'm saying is peanut butter is my go-to lunch. Peanut butter and a banana give me enough energy to face the day without screaming. Sans peanut butter, a nostalgic holdover from childhood, who am I?  A peanut shell of my former self.  And the fact that my daddy's nickname growing up was Peanut just ties it all together in a neat little bow. Are you listening, people? I'm not breaking up with peanut butter (reduced fat) and you can't make me. Even if... oh, this is hard...

even if... according to the so-called experts, I've been storing it all wrong. All. Wrong. You're supposed to store it upside down so that the oil is distributed evenly. Some part of me knew this deep down in my soul. It makes sense. But who has time to turn peanut butter jars upside down? Will the P.B. Police come and make a citizen's arrest? Should I leave the back door open so they can come in and cart me off to jail? I think it's well established I wouldn't do well locked up in a cell. Next you're going to tell me everything in my life should be alphabetized. How many times must I tell you, I'm not that organized. I'm still searching for proof of my existence. I'm pretty sure there's a form hidden somewhere in a drawer. And now you want me to turn peanut butter jars upside down? That's a big ask. But I'll try. I need a new hobby. I'll give it my best shot and let you know how it goes. Wish me luck, nice people. I'm going to turn this around... excuse me, upside down, if it's the last thing I do.