Color Me Clueless

Mona Andrei had quite a colorful scare recently. As did her boyfriend. This post first appeared on Mona Andrei’s personal blog, Moxie-Dude.

I’m about to share a hermetic secret with you. “Hermetic”, because apparently this is only known to a select few. “Secret”, because apparently no one else has stepped up to tell you about it.

Well have a seat, awesome readers, because guess what! I’m about to step up. You’re welcome.

Recently – quite by accident – I stumbled upon a classified piece of information on how the body works and how the colour PINK is not your friend. It all started when I ate twice my body weight in beets.

Why?

Because beets taste good. Also they’re good for you. And when I say they’re good for you, I mean they help fight cancer.

Except that – and this is the “hermetic secret” part – eating beets will almost always make you think that you HAVE cancer. (Notice the OPPOSITE EFFECT.)

Why?

Because the morning after the night before you ate twice your body weight in beets you will wake up – like every other morning. You will crawl out of bed before you’re fully awake – like every other morning. And you will go for a pee – like every other morning.

Then, groggily, you will reach over to flush the toilet and, not because you planned it but by accident, your field of view will fall inside the toilet. (Of course by accident; only people with a sick sense of art-appreciation look in there ON PURPOSE.) Suddenly, a symphony of heavy metal music will explode inside your head and every single cell in your body will get hit by tiny lightening rods and you will abruptly wake up.

Why?

Because the toilet’s contents will not be the lovely and reliable shade of yellow that you’ve come to appreciate in a warm-and-fuzzy-I’m-so-healthy kind of way. Nope. The contents of that toilet will be PINK.

And PINK – as you will rudely realize – is not the colour of sugar and spice and everything nice that you’ve been brought up to believe it is. Nope. PINK is the asshole that likes to imitate blood when you’re half asleep.

At first I was paralyzed, stressing over my newly discovered state of cancer-somewhere-inside-my-body. I was downstairs, accompanied by my own dreadful thoughts and cup of cold coffee when I heard my boyfriend wake up and walk into the bathroom. Then I heard him scream like a girl. In his defense it may have been a scream like a boy. (A very YOUNG boy.)

Either way, I knew then that PINK was being an asshole for him too.

Conclusion

We’re going to lay off the beets for a while. Just in case.