some things get better with age

Spaghetti-o's, however, do not.

These nasty oddities still remind me of what I imagine the stench of dirty underwear stewing in a pot of sweat would be like. The same heady rank I remember as a child when we thought it would be stellar to have this for lunch.

Don't even get me started if there were meatballs added to the mix.

Shudder.

I didn't eat this, mind you. I'll put stuff in my body that doesn't belong there (Costco? You owe me!), but I will not put Spaghetti-o's there. I'll feed them to my kids after they beg for them, though! Because I am that mom. "Give In Mom." You'd probably like her.

If you really want to get to know her, pay a visit to FTN or Cynical Dad today. Give a little love to the boys who were nice enough to endure me for a time.

Just don't come back here and tell me it was like breathing in the sweet perfume of old dirty underwear and sweat. They rock. I just hope I didn't ruin them.