Dorado Posted January 13, 2014 Share Posted January 13, 2014 Amazon.com Haribo Sugarless Gummy Bears. Please read the reviews. 5,330 of 5,576 people found the following review helpfulMy Dinner With Andrea ByFarva21 on November 21, 2013 I'm pretty sure Andrea(I'll call her) agreed to have dinner at my apartment only because Ialways spoke to her using nothing but my two-years-of-high-schoolGerman. Her English was perfect. Probably better than mine. But thefact that I could only ask her directions to the Autobahn or inquireabout the health of her non-existent Tante Amelia, seemed to make meappealing to her in a sweet and non-threatening way.My intentions,however, were considerably less child-like. Which is why the shoppingthat night was done at one of those upscale groceries with aninternational flair. Moules Marinieres is as much of a panty-peeler asanything I can cook, and isn't that hard to pull off. But still, I wasbusy tracking the recipe in my head when I found myself in the sweetsaisle. And that, to my great chagrin, is why I didn't immediatelynotice the difference between Haribo Normal Gummi Bears (which aredesigned for human enjoyment) and Haribo Sugarless Gummi Bears (whichare designed for use in maximum security prisons as a way to punishuncooperative inmates).I shan't make that mistake again. (notice you can't spell SHAN'T without SHAT.)Priorto Andrea's arrival, I sat in my living room, creating a playlist ofmake-out music and nervously binging on the Gummi Bears I had placed in adecorative bowl because I am fancy.The doorbell rang, and withinminutes we were standing in the kitchen, drinking beers and both of usprobably worrying that we were about to exhaust my ability tocommunicate in her native tongue. But soon that would be the least ofmy worries. In the middle of trying to ask Andrea if she likes to danceto young people's music, I felt a flutter in my midsection, accompaniedby a guttural pronouncement so loud it threatened to drown out my ownvoice.Maybe it was because I was mentally refreshing my languagelessons, but it suddenly struck me how much pre-diarrheal grumblingssound like German words."ENTSCHULDIGUNG!" was the next thing uttered by my rapidly clenching stomach. Appropriately, Andrea looked up in response."Sind Sie Kaffee machen?" she asked.Am I making coffee?Ithought I must have mistranslated her at first, then finally I realizedthat yes, the loud, ominous gurgling coming from my gut could easily bemistaken for the percolating of some bachelor's crappy coffeemaker.It'sremarkable how quickly one knows that one is about to have a traumaticpottymaking experience. Maybe that's the body's way of buying you theprecious seconds you need. I was already calculating the number of stepsto the bathroom, speculating on whether I would have time to lift thelid to the toilet, when my own voice cried out loudly in my head.She's going to hear EVERYTHING!Thanksto an acoustical idiosyncrasy in my building, the hallway outside thebathroom works as an amplifier pointed straight at my livingroom-slash-kitchen. So that somehow even the gentlest tinkle soundslike I'm pouring lemonade out of a bucket.With only half an idea ofwhat I was doing, I grabbed Andrea's hand and pulled her roughly downonto my sofa. I must have looked like a madman as I booted up my iTunesplaylist, plugged in the gigantic new headphones I had just bought tokeep me looking young and hip, and clamped them down over her ears. (thesweat forming on my brow and upper lip couldn't have helped.) Inresponse to her nervous expression, I kept shouting "You'll love this!You'll love this!"I spun her around so that she was looking out thewindow. My "plan" was that she'd be so distracted by the modest 4thfloor view, that it would allow me to pull my pants off while I sprinteddown the hall, silently singing the praises of the noise-reducingquality of my new headphones. (this story will be reprinted in itsentirety as a 5 star review on the Sony Beats Audio Amazon page.)As Islammed the bathroom door shut, already half naked, it occurred to methat I had not been shouting "You'll love this!" at Andrea. I don't evenknow how to say that in German. In my desperation I had been saying"Ich Leibe Dich!" Repeatedly professing my love for her in a shaky andfrantic voice. But maybe that was a good thing, because as I threwmyself at the toilet, I figured the best I could hope for is that shewould be so creeped-out that she would sneak out of the apartment,blissfully unaware of the carnage taking place in the next room.Whatcan I say about the ensuing white-knuckle bowel movement that hasn'tbeen expressed in other reviews on this page? I'm pretty sure I haven'tseen the adjective "Kafkaesque" used anywhere else.By the end ofAct One of this private little torture-porn movie, I was confessing toevery unsolved crime in history. Praying I would stumble upon the onethat would satisfy my invisible captors.Quickly I realized that Ihad more than Andrea's sense of sound to worry about. Were she to geteven the faintest whiff of the weapons-grade sluice that my anus wasangrily shouting into the porcelain, I would have to change my name andmove to another city.And so I flushed. And flushed. And flushed and flushed.And then I flushed and nothing happened.Ihave never looked down into a broken toilet with more horror in myentire life. And I once stopped up George Clooney's crapper! (a truestory for another time.)I reached for the plunger, but my hand frozeand my heart seized when I saw it on the floor, broken in two andcovered in what looked like teeth marks. Apparently I had used thewooden handle to keep from biting my tongue off and had chewed cleanthrough it. When did that happen? It seems my mind had already startedthe process of repressing this entire event.Amid the feverish,fruitless dance I did across my tiny bathroom floor, it dawned on methat it had been more than a minute since my last soul-wrenching analtantrum. Dear Lord, is it over? I asked, quite possibly aloud.I mayhave been light-headed and delusional, but I began to imagine anon-ignominious resolution to this ordeal. I just needed to get her thehell out of here. If Andrea hadn't fled the building, vomiting interror, then I supposed I could pull up my trousers and make a cavalierexit. As long as I could get her off premises and as far away from thispost-apocalyptic commode as humanly possible. Assuming that theDiarrhistas had retreated to the hills temporarily, maybe I could evenwhisk Andrea away to a candlelight dinner at Bernardo's. How impulsive!Myfirst few steps back toward the living room were tentative. And notjust because my sphincter felt raw and tattered. It was a slow approachto the Moment of Truth, especially when I saw her figure still plantedon my sofa. I knew any look on Andrea's face other than her mouth agapewould constitute a miraculous victory. And when she smiled at me, thewash of relief that engulfed me was more glorious than any throes ofecstasy I might have wished for at the beginning of the night.And then I saw it.The decorative bowl sitting in her lap. Down to just the last few sugarless Gummi bears."Duhast Haribo!" she said to me. Accompanied by a satisfied smile. Abig, beaming Hansel and Gretel smile, that slightly turned down in onecorner at the sound we both suddenly heard. A low rumble from deepwithin her GI tract that sounded like Gefahrrrrr.The German word for Danger.Her eyes shot past mine and refocused on the bathroom door just down the hall behind me. 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Utah Bob #35998 Posted January 13, 2014 Share Posted January 13, 2014 And I ain't eating anything from a company named Hairbo! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Apache Hawk 60642 Posted January 14, 2014 Share Posted January 14, 2014 Stay close to a bathroom ! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ace_of_Hearts Posted January 14, 2014 Share Posted January 14, 2014 One should read the label before eating too many..... Sugarless = laxative Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Apache Hawk 60642 Posted January 15, 2014 Share Posted January 15, 2014 ZACTLY ! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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