Here I am, bringing you a Monday gift in a basket full of puppies, rainbows, and unlimited CVS Extra Bucks. (Extra Bucks are actually better than money. Anyone who has spent too much time on any Goodie product and/or a 15 pack of Toothbrushes knows this. Also, I’ll take three neon nail polish colors that I will never wear but they’re free. Well, free-ish.)
Last week we gave away some of the new Yoplait lactose free to a bunch o’FFJDers. Did it arrive on your doorstep? Did it greet you on a Saturday morning like your dehydration normall does? I thought so. It’s a great hangover cure, you know. Also a face-mask, parfait-base, toothpaste, etc.
All this month we’re bring you some lactose free yo(gurt) to our loyalist of FFJDers. Did you know the Iceman was lactose-intolerant? Did you also know that so is Cindy Lauper, and also one of our FFJD faves, Anne Hathaway? So basically if I ever got to a point in my life where Anne and I were on the Bethenny Frankel talk-show circuit together, we really wouldn’t want to be engaging in an ice-cream-eating contest. It’d be a terrible idea.
We’re giving away more yogurt this week, but first let’s take a trip down Lactose Lane, shall we? (And by lactose lane I mean by my telling a really embarrassing story about being lactose intolerant. On a date. True.)
Details and how to win after the jump! Digest!
So basically, I am convinced that I turned myself into an Anti-Lactosian at the tender age of 16, when I found it appropos to eat frozen yogurt for breakfast, lunch and dinner with a helping of sprinkles that would, in some countries, be considered really gross. It was then that I started having trouble on the digestion in question, so I decided for the most part, I’d soy the crap out of myself for the coming years. Where does this narcissistic story go, Meredith? I’ll tell you.
I met a guy, who I was obsessed with. We’ll call him E. I basically laid down like a doormat for E, but I don’t think he was interested because he was into being all artsy and hipstery and not caring about things like Blackberries and showering and liked to look/act bored a lot. I thought that was really cool. I decided it would be a mission of mine to capture him. Romantically.
I was visiting New York from the Land of the Ill-Fitting Pants Suit, also known as Washington, and I invited myself to Brooklyn to hang out with E. I decided it would be under the guise of my “being in town” and whatever so we just had to hang out and talk about how much we hated mainstream media together. So I head to Brooklyn.
Long story short, we’re sitting in the park looking at a crafts fair of recycled Toms shoes strung up as chandeliers or whatever adorns hipsters’ apartments, and my stomach starts to go upside down. I am with a guy I really, really like, in a park full of people that think they’re denouncing mainstream culture (I will admit I love Brooklyn, but I’m as alternative is that teeshirt company, Alternative Apparel), and I start to get really sick. Apparently in Brooklyn they haven’t heard of soy, or I chose the one coffee shop that doesn’t brew its own Henna milk. It was mortifying.
Let’s just say I spent the rest of the afternoon sick to my stomach, still with him. Needless to say, it didn’t work out. (I think he also had a girlfriend, which makes me feel less bad about my small intestine.) I was mortified, but at least I took myself to Beacon’s Closet afterwards.
The point of this embarrassing diatribe is that lactose is for slores. Tell me a funny story about a time you were embarrassed on a date and win some yogurt yourself.
How to win:
1. Follow FFJD on Pinterest. I know, new platforms, new interns, new things to pin things to.
2. Leave a comment below about your own lactose (or really, other food, or general dating) woes. We’re here to solve them. By sending yogurt.
Winners announced at noon on Friday.
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