If Punk Rock Tri Guy can be the cupcake whisperer, then I've got to be the popcorn whisperer. I thought I was just crazy when my popcorn talked to me and now I know I'm not alone.
My conversation with popcorn would go something like this;
popcorn: Hey Jeff, I've noticed that you haven't looked in my direction in quite some time.
Me: I'm sorry, I've been busy.
popcorn: busy? You know, I won't stay this fresh and delicious forever.
Me: I know, but you're just not that good for me...well, after all the things I add to you anyway.
popcorn: Right, like the hot melted butter and the gentle coating of salt.
popcorn: Besides, don't think I haven't noticed your hands all over the raisins lately.
Me: Leave the raisins out of this, they have nothing to do with you and me.
popcorn: You're right, you always know what to say... So how about we get out the oil.
Me: Not tonight, I have 4x400 intervals to run tomorrow and always feel bad after we spend the night
popcorn: Ah come on...can't you just smell the oil warming up and the gentle turns of the Whirley Pop as the melted butter waits anxiously to be poured over my HOT freshly popped kernels?
Me: That's not fair! You know how weak I am!
popcorn: Can't you just feel the repeated "pops", "tings", and "bursts" of my seeds bouncing around inside the Whirley Pop as you hold the long hard shaft gently turning until we just can't take it anymore? Just waiting to be released from the intense heat, only to be quickly covered in melted butter and then gently shaken as you sprinkle the salt so lovingly. Then you carefully pour me into the big bowl, you know how I like the big bowl, and you slowly raise a handful of warm popped kernels into your mouth.
Me: I love you
popcorn: I know.
* I apologize for the awkward turn this post has taken. I'm going to take a cold shower now...