One>>>An Oreo Cookie Story
Some people consider it an obsession. Others think of it is as merely an unusual method. In fact, it is a finely tuned, and perfect might I add, routine. A pathetic loser like myself might say that huh?
You pick up the oreo. Holding it by the tips of your fingers you lower it into the glass of milk. Slowly, you emerge the oreo more and more. Once your fingers are just barely touching the milk, you start your counting. 5 mississippi is the key. Being careful of the dripping, you throw the whole thing in your mouth and take a big sip of milk.
It would be wrong to start a narration with a meaningless description of the way I eat an oreo cookie. So properly, I will ponder and come up with an insightful analogy- relating the oreo cookie process to the life of Taylor Hanson.
The oreo cookie is me- the core of me. The milk is every new relationship I enter. I am careful at first with every relationship. I enter slowly and cautiously. Suddenly though, before I know it, I am completely and utterly drenched in the relationship. It takes over every part of my core despite my caution. Finally, I get thrown like hell from the relationship and eventually hide…usually in my room but lately it’s been in my brother’s apartment.
If I think about the oreo cookie story a little bit more, I realize it can easily be related to sex. The carefulness, the saturation, the…I think I should start making friends. I have a lot of time on my hands. Maybe I will take up a hobby. I’ve always been interested in pottery to be quite honest. Maybe I will join a pottery class.
The door opens and I don’t bother to look to see who it is. Just as I go back to dunking my oreos, I’m hit on the back with something hard. Fine, I’ll look.
“Pretty soon, I’m going to start making a list of all the food of mine that you eat. And don’t doubt you’ll be expected to reimburse me for every damn oreo, every pringle, every grape, in fact, every-”
I cut him off. If there’s one thing you need to know about my brother, Isaac, it’s that you better make him stop talking before he really gets to rambling. If you let him really get into his rambling, he might not stop for a couple of solid minutes.
“Don’t I do enough for you as it is?” I ask him, and saunter to his kitchen to refill my glass. “Bitch, whine, bitch, whine, that’s all I hear from you. You know, I don’t have to let you hang out with my friends Friday.” I smirk to myself.
He looks at me annoyed and takes the oreos, rolling the bag up, and putting them away. Isaac hates stale food. To be honest, I couldn’t care less how hard or soft my cookie is. I wonder if I could tie that into my oreo sex analogy as well…
“If you’re referring to Jed and Colin, your only two real friends by the way, I’m paying them to help me download the new software to my computer and to show me how to work it. You’re not letting me “hang out” with your friends.”
“Fine, you’re trying to buy friends.” I tell him flatly, drinking all my milk and making the satisfied, refreshed sigh I always make after drinking. Isaac hates it.
I put my cup in his sink and wander back out to his living room to watch the rest of…whatever the hell I was watching.
Ike goes to my pile of clothes in the corner of his living room and pulls out a pair of my wrinkled jeans and a shirt I must have worn 5 times without washing it yet. He drops the clothes on me and flicks the TV off.
“Tay! It’s 3 o clock in the afternoon and all you’ve done is sit around my apartment eating and watching TV! Get dressed and go do something!”
I fall back on the couch and close my eyes, whining, “That’s too much work Ike…I think I’m gonna fall back asleep until dinner. Then we’ll order pizza.”
I feel Isaac smack me hard on the side and walk away. “I’m taking a shower. You better be out of my apartment and off the couch for that matter by the time I’m out.”
“Off the couch too?! Damn, I was planning on taking it with me.” I roll my eyes and sit up. Life’s choppy. Where the hell is your life preserver when you need it?