You know how they say that if you ask an Oreo a yes or no question, and then open it up, it will tell you the answer to your question based on if the filling all stayed on one side or not?
This is COMPLETELY TRUE. It has been proven, but I'm not citing any studies because they are all very top secret and on a need to know basis. I will tell you what you need to know.
For those of you who have never heard of the amazing psychic abilities of the Oreo, if it opens with all the filling on one side that's a yes. If the filling is on both sides, it's a big fat no. And I'd like to throw in my expert opinion and say that if you break the cookie while twisting it apart, but still manage to keep the filling on one side, then it's a much weaker yes. Like a "Well, probably, but don't put all your money on horse 11 just yet" kind of thing.
And even though I can't cite those secret, totally legit, studies, I can give you my version on why I believe that Oreos are comparable to one of the old wise men that live at the top of high mountains that people will climb to ask important questions - except it's way easier to buy a bag of double stuff (which is good because I don't like climbing mountains.)
When I was in college, back in my skinny days - yes, I was HOT, ok, just hotter than now- all of my roommates were getting married. And all of my ward friends were getting married. And all of my classmates were getting married. No, I didn't go to BYU, but I was still in Utah, so that marriage thing was just ALL OVER THE PLACE.
Once I went into tithing settlement and I was expecting just the usual questions like, "Is this a full tithe?" But my Bishop started off with, "So, who are you dating? Are you engaged yet?" I think he was really disappointed that I wasn't seriously dating anyone. Maybe I was ruining a personal goal of his to marry off the ENTIRE ward before the end of the year.
Since everyone else was getting married I felt really left out. And I wondered what was wrong with me, because I was hot (ok, hotter than now) and I knew that any guy could see that I clearly didn't have kankles or a mustache but that I could probably pop a lot of kids out of my curvaceous hips (which turned out to be totally un-true by the way; curvy hips yes, popping out no, c-sections u-huh, and still no kankles or mustache thank goodness.)
So I started doing that thing where I talked to every guy I saw. EVERY GUY. If they were in my line of vision or anywhere within shouting distance I was ready to flirt. And back then I could flirt - my roommates taught me the fine art of flirting. I was ready, I could flirt and I could flirt well.
It's too bad though, because all of that flirting had responses like, "Do you want a tictac or piece of gum or something?" or "Nice to meet you, but I'm engaged." or with just one of those looks that deer get right before they are smashed into by a semi on the freeway.
Then I started wondering what really was wrong with me (and I started carrying around tictacs.) I was even going to the college gym regularly in those days, and attempted the skanky attention getting work-out top a few times....ok, I really didn't, but once this old dude in tiny shorts came and hit on me and I told him to get lost - in a not very nice way - and then he laughed and kept hitting on me. And I thought, "Am I really so desperate looking that this 35 year old man in adolescent sized shorts thinks I could possibly be interested?!!"
It was really exasperating.
Then one evening my roommate introduced a bag of Oreos. (You thought I forgot that this was supposed to be about Oreos didn't you?)
Of course my roommate's Oreo question was, "Should I marry Rick, Adam or Ryan....oh, or Steven?" But with a new Oreo each time, since it's only a yes or no thing. She ate a lot of Oreos that night, but thankfully it pointed to the right fiance.
As for me - after successfully breaking 7 Oreos on the question "Will I ever get married?" I finally switched my question to, "Will I meet my future husband tomorrow?" And guess what? The cleanest easiest opening of an Oreo ever committed by human hands. It was a definite yes.
So I went to bed right away so that I could wake up early and primp like I've never primped in my life. I shaved every stray hair off of my legs in the shower (even those little ones that hide in your knee pit where you really shouldn't have hair but they sometimes pop up and then you notice later when you're completely helpless.) My curled and gelled hair was perfect, I had on 17 layers of mascara and I was wearing my baggiest, yet best butt-reducing, pair of jeans I owned. (I was a huge fan of baggy jeans in those days.)
All day long I was looking around every corner for my future husband just waiting for the magic to happen.
All day.
It was past noon...
Evening, and then it was getting dark...
I was beginning to doubt my Oreo prediction.
And then it happened.
I was leaving the computer lab (a magical location, I know.) This lab was huge and so many people used it on a daily basis that I knew it was pretty much my last chance. But after sitting there for 4 hours I was ready to call it quits. So I ducked my head and started rushing to the exit.
As I was speed walking past one of the occupied computers, the occupant decided to push back their chair with tremendous force. Especially for such a tiny, pushy girl - her chair flew into me. And then Newton's first law of motion kicked in and my inertia was directed in a whole direction.
And I landed in his lap. Perfectly into his lap. Not kidding. That chair hit me so hard that I stumbled two steps sideways and plopped into unsuspecting future husband's lap.
It would have been a bit more romantic had I not accidentally hit escape with one elbow completely erasing his 10 page essay while making a huge swiping motion with my other arm giving him a bloody lip while falling into his lap (where he was holding an opened package of Cheetos.) And then little chair pusher girl gave me a beyond angry look like the whole thing was my fault. Or possibly she was jealous. Whatever.
Anyways, the details after that are unimportant because obviously the predicting power of Oreos has been proven. And now you don't need to know about the real studies, because what more could you need to know?
Well, maybe you should know that my whole story was a COMPLETE LIE.
Not all of it I guess. I was hotter in college. There were lots of people getting married, and that part about tithing settlement and the tiny shorts man at the gym were completely true. Oh, and my roommates and I really liked to ask Oreos questions. And I ate some Oreos tonight - but it would have been pretty boring if I had just said, "I ate Oreos tonight."
Also, the TRUE story of how I met my husband MIGHT be in the "Sometimes Life is Funny" book if Sue ever let's me know if any of my submissions were good enough to make the cut. And if not, I'll post it here. It involves chest high waders - it's totally worth reading.
This is COMPLETELY TRUE. It has been proven, but I'm not citing any studies because they are all very top secret and on a need to know basis. I will tell you what you need to know.
For those of you who have never heard of the amazing psychic abilities of the Oreo, if it opens with all the filling on one side that's a yes. If the filling is on both sides, it's a big fat no. And I'd like to throw in my expert opinion and say that if you break the cookie while twisting it apart, but still manage to keep the filling on one side, then it's a much weaker yes. Like a "Well, probably, but don't put all your money on horse 11 just yet" kind of thing.
And even though I can't cite those secret, totally legit, studies, I can give you my version on why I believe that Oreos are comparable to one of the old wise men that live at the top of high mountains that people will climb to ask important questions - except it's way easier to buy a bag of double stuff (which is good because I don't like climbing mountains.)
When I was in college, back in my skinny days - yes, I was HOT, ok, just hotter than now- all of my roommates were getting married. And all of my ward friends were getting married. And all of my classmates were getting married. No, I didn't go to BYU, but I was still in Utah, so that marriage thing was just ALL OVER THE PLACE.
Once I went into tithing settlement and I was expecting just the usual questions like, "Is this a full tithe?" But my Bishop started off with, "So, who are you dating? Are you engaged yet?" I think he was really disappointed that I wasn't seriously dating anyone. Maybe I was ruining a personal goal of his to marry off the ENTIRE ward before the end of the year.
Since everyone else was getting married I felt really left out. And I wondered what was wrong with me, because I was hot (ok, hotter than now) and I knew that any guy could see that I clearly didn't have kankles or a mustache but that I could probably pop a lot of kids out of my curvaceous hips (which turned out to be totally un-true by the way; curvy hips yes, popping out no, c-sections u-huh, and still no kankles or mustache thank goodness.)
So I started doing that thing where I talked to every guy I saw. EVERY GUY. If they were in my line of vision or anywhere within shouting distance I was ready to flirt. And back then I could flirt - my roommates taught me the fine art of flirting. I was ready, I could flirt and I could flirt well.
It's too bad though, because all of that flirting had responses like, "Do you want a tictac or piece of gum or something?" or "Nice to meet you, but I'm engaged." or with just one of those looks that deer get right before they are smashed into by a semi on the freeway.
Then I started wondering what really was wrong with me (and I started carrying around tictacs.) I was even going to the college gym regularly in those days, and attempted the skanky attention getting work-out top a few times....ok, I really didn't, but once this old dude in tiny shorts came and hit on me and I told him to get lost - in a not very nice way - and then he laughed and kept hitting on me. And I thought, "Am I really so desperate looking that this 35 year old man in adolescent sized shorts thinks I could possibly be interested?!!"
It was really exasperating.
Then one evening my roommate introduced a bag of Oreos. (You thought I forgot that this was supposed to be about Oreos didn't you?)
Of course my roommate's Oreo question was, "Should I marry Rick, Adam or Ryan....oh, or Steven?" But with a new Oreo each time, since it's only a yes or no thing. She ate a lot of Oreos that night, but thankfully it pointed to the right fiance.
As for me - after successfully breaking 7 Oreos on the question "Will I ever get married?" I finally switched my question to, "Will I meet my future husband tomorrow?" And guess what? The cleanest easiest opening of an Oreo ever committed by human hands. It was a definite yes.
So I went to bed right away so that I could wake up early and primp like I've never primped in my life. I shaved every stray hair off of my legs in the shower (even those little ones that hide in your knee pit where you really shouldn't have hair but they sometimes pop up and then you notice later when you're completely helpless.) My curled and gelled hair was perfect, I had on 17 layers of mascara and I was wearing my baggiest, yet best butt-reducing, pair of jeans I owned. (I was a huge fan of baggy jeans in those days.)
All day long I was looking around every corner for my future husband just waiting for the magic to happen.
All day.
It was past noon...
Evening, and then it was getting dark...
I was beginning to doubt my Oreo prediction.
And then it happened.
I was leaving the computer lab (a magical location, I know.) This lab was huge and so many people used it on a daily basis that I knew it was pretty much my last chance. But after sitting there for 4 hours I was ready to call it quits. So I ducked my head and started rushing to the exit.
As I was speed walking past one of the occupied computers, the occupant decided to push back their chair with tremendous force. Especially for such a tiny, pushy girl - her chair flew into me. And then Newton's first law of motion kicked in and my inertia was directed in a whole direction.
And I landed in his lap. Perfectly into his lap. Not kidding. That chair hit me so hard that I stumbled two steps sideways and plopped into unsuspecting future husband's lap.
It would have been a bit more romantic had I not accidentally hit escape with one elbow completely erasing his 10 page essay while making a huge swiping motion with my other arm giving him a bloody lip while falling into his lap (where he was holding an opened package of Cheetos.) And then little chair pusher girl gave me a beyond angry look like the whole thing was my fault. Or possibly she was jealous. Whatever.
Anyways, the details after that are unimportant because obviously the predicting power of Oreos has been proven. And now you don't need to know about the real studies, because what more could you need to know?
Well, maybe you should know that my whole story was a COMPLETE LIE.
Not all of it I guess. I was hotter in college. There were lots of people getting married, and that part about tithing settlement and the tiny shorts man at the gym were completely true. Oh, and my roommates and I really liked to ask Oreos questions. And I ate some Oreos tonight - but it would have been pretty boring if I had just said, "I ate Oreos tonight."
Also, the TRUE story of how I met my husband MIGHT be in the "Sometimes Life is Funny" book if Sue ever let's me know if any of my submissions were good enough to make the cut. And if not, I'll post it here. It involves chest high waders - it's totally worth reading.
Comments
Then I found out you lied.
Oh well, it was a very creative lie, and it did entertain me, so I guess it was worth it:)
I don't believe you having kids has impacted on your hotness - I bet you're still as hot now, and could snare multiple hot-pant-wearing-gym-guys if you wanted to ;)
and I like that story. You should totally just tell that from now on.
I have to admit you had me going, believing that I needed to rush to the store and buy a package of oreos..
Excellent story. Right down to the very last lie.
Now I'm even MORE sad that there are no Oreos in Poland. (How did I never hear about their magical, eight ball like qualities?