hellman's mayonnaise: i accept no substitutions

So there I was, reading a book, minding my own business and generally being the kind of great guy that wins you a Husband of the Year award. I was suddenly overcome with the urge to make myself a large sandwich--not a significant event by any stretch of the imagination, but significant in the sense that I have mostly cut carbs out of my diet in yet another (hopefully not vain) attempt to lose weight.

I quickly made my way to the fridge and began to get out the elements of a mostly basic sandwich: cajun-flavored chicken, cheddar cheese, mayo, mustard. My excitement quickly abated when I began to experience one disappointment after another: the highfalutin cheddar cheese I had purchased the month before at the local upscale grocery store had gone moldy; the chicken, though purchased yesterday, did not have its usual, slightly moist texture; the loaf of bread that was open was down to one slight stale slide plus the heel. All of these minor losses were quickly overshadowed, however, when I discovered that that the mayonnaise we had on hand was Kraft mayonnaise.

In this glorious empire of crass consumerism we've constructed, one is offered many choices when one wants to purchase something. There are originals, house brands, expensive variants and every other choice in between. One quickly discovers, however, that there are some products for which there can be no substitute: Kraft macaroni 'n' cheese and real Ziploc bags are two that immediately come to mind. The other product that immediately comes to mind is mayonnaise. I cannot accept anything but Best Foods (Hellman's in this part of the country) mayonnaise.

I was actually raised on Miracle Whip--a move that inspires controversy and strife in many American families. I think this was my father's decision. As far as I'm aware, he loathes mayonnaise and will accept nothing but Miracle Whip--baffling to me because, while I do notice small differences between the two, I find them mostly the same. In any case, my approach to these sandwich spreads is slightly more pragmatic--I buy mayonnaise, but will readily accept Miracle Whip. When it comes to mayonnaise, however, my needs are very specific. I MUST HAVE BEST FOODS/HELLMAN'S.

The little lady knows this. She knows it all too well. I've made it clear on more than one occasion that, under no circumstances, is Kraft mayonnaise or any other substitute ever to be purchased or brought into our home. I don't need Kraft's foul flavors, jive/overly colorful packaging and general unsightly appearance sullying my pantry or refrigerator, let alone my chicken sandwich. In any case, because she knows this, I can only assume that the half-empty bottle of Kraft I found in the fridge is part of a larger, subtler, more insidious plan to drive me insane. If this is the case, then it's working--quite quickly, I might add.

Having no other substitute, I spread it onto each slice of bread and then blended in some grainy mustard in order to mask the rottenness that is Kraft. And with bite after each bitter bite into my sandwich of broken dreams, I plotted my revenge.