Thursday, January 05, 2006


Over Christmas, my family received a giant holiday chocolate chip cookie, with the words “Happy Holidays!” written in red, green, and white frosting.  I took said cookie and served it to my guests at my New Year's party, but one guest in particular refused to eat it.  "It's actually not very good,” she confided to me.  I had never eaten a Mrs. Fields Giant Cookie, so I decided to try it.  She was right on the money.

I realized two things:

  1. No one ate the cookie until I finally brought in a giant meat cleaver and chopped it up

  2. The cookie tasted as good as it looked, and it looked terrible after cutting it up.

I’ve got a suggestion.  Why not make a Mrs. Fields Giant Animal Cookie?  When I was a kid and the no-brainer Sunday school snack was a bag of Mrs. Fields assorted miniature cookies, which cookies were always the first to go?  The white and pink animal cookies.   Now, think a little harder: which cookies were always the rejects left in the bag? The chocolate chips, of course.  Somewhere between Mount Olympus and Shit Valley were the other cookies of middling quality – the chocolate chocolate chip cookies and I forget what else – that’s not important.

A Mrs. Fields Giant Animal Cookie has all the functionality and holiday versatility of the ‘other’ giant cookie, with one key difference: people would actually WANT to eat it.  (Plus, there’s absolutely no way for the cookie to go stale, once you’ve shellacked it in pink, sweet, buttery goodness.)  It would sell out like crazy!

Think about it:   Would you eat an ice cream cake?  Yes.  

How about eat one of those newfangled birthday cakes with a photo of the birthday boy painted in sugary food dye?  … Eh, creepy, but still yes.

Gingerbread houses?  Hell yes!

Giant Mrs. Fields Chocolate Chip Cookie with semi-crystallized frosting?

If you hesitated just now, I don’t blame you.  Eating a supersized version of the worst cookie in the entire Mrs. Fields lineup is like scaling a mountain of dung: you’d only do it because it was there; the trip to the top is not that pleasant; and once you’ve finished, you wonder just what the hell were you thinking.

You’d be better off downing five pounds of black jellybeans in one sitting.


At 2:45 AM, Blogger superlefty said...

hey! i like black jellybeans and i'm not ashamed to admit it!


Post a Comment

<< Home