True Love Equals Tolerance for Triscuit Intolerance

I’ve been quite busy with this whole working full time and doing a doctorate business. At week eight of class, I have had about nine assignments and thus have gone a bit crazy (crazier?). Pastry and I went to the grocery store earlier this week, me stumbling around like a snack-sneaking zombie as Pastry tried to herd me in the correct direction. And, lo, I happened upon a giant display of Martha Stewart endorsed Triscuits.

I LOVE Triscuits. But, er, wheat in general does not love me back. But, my inner snack-sneaking zombie voice told me that I should get a couple boxes of crisped wheat snacks in fun flavors like Toasted Coconut and Sea Salt or Rosemary Olive Oil. I snatched up a pile and ran up to Pastry at the self-checkout stand. In my snack-enthusiast daze I don’t quite remember the actual conversation we had, but it went something like this.

“Triscuits, eh? Don’t those make you feel ill?”


“Your call, Cucumber…”

So, we went home and I promptly ate a bunch of Triscuits. Cut to day two, and my packed lunch at work was a bowl of cherries and Triscuits. I got home and had Triscuits prior to dinner. Pastry made a delicious dinner of bacon-wrapped chicken thighs and green beans. I may have had a few more Triscuits. Pastry, so cleverly and suavely, devised a romantic maneuver after dinner. Meanwhile, the epic of amount of Triscuits I had ingested over the past day, suddenly resulted in me, well, feeling like this below picture.

Holy god.

“I am SO SORRY. Really. SO SORRY. Oh god, it’s so bad…”

“My love, I am marrying you. It’s really okay. I don’t care.”

Thus, we ended our romantic date evening by laying on the bed, laughing and reading Amazon reviews of Fiber One Bars. Pastry reminded me that perhaps this should be a cautionary tale concerning my Triscuit indulgence.

He really is the best. And, those coconut Triscuits are really delicious.

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