Dreams of Kid JD: Crushing Supermarket Sweep

12 04 2012

Just this morning I’m bustin balls at my desk at TODM headquarters when I get a badass gift in the mail. A friggin Sunny D mousepad. I can’t think of a better way to promote a delicious fruity beverage while at the same time padding my mouse as I navigate the interwebs. Genius marketing by Sunny D.

Even before I can fully admire my new pad, our resident attorney, Furmursk Esquire, emerges from a long night of desperately trying to find an upper edge in our most recent public urination case. Dude starts chirping about how Sunny D makes regular orange juice taste like a glass of sadness. I thought about it for a second and realized it was true. Sunny D changed the drink game for good. I mean who wants a glass of freshly squeezed OJ when you can pound an easy-to-open bottle of artificial ingredient infused nectar?

Now I know for a fact Sunny D wasn’t the only specialty item that made regular food and drink suck wang. 90s food marketers were ruthless. They knew our generation of kids were twice as dumb and thus twice as likely to demand their products when Mom goes to the grocery store next. Yeah, we knew tobaccy is wacky (if you’re a teen) and “If each night you floss, then you’re a boss” but last I checked in 97′ if it tasted delicious it was in hot demand. Unfortunately, Mamma McGriddle always hit the veggie section way harder than I hoped for. Most days I’d be lucky to find a half opened packet of Fun Dip spot welded to the bottom of a four-pack of pork chops when she got home.

Made me want to handle the grocery shopping on my own.

Maybe the dude, JD, was a weird kid and fantasized about stupid stuff, I don’t know. Straight up though I remember wishing I could hide in the frozen meat aisle while the grocery store closed and then have free reign on everything in the store in the middle of the night. Parents free. Better yet, get on that game show, Supermarket Sweep and get a cart full o awesome shit.

I got my money on the bitches in the yellow.

 

Don’t remember much from those shows except for the chicks that b-lined it for the meat aisle and filled their cart up with 16 honey baked hams. I mean yeah HBH’s are delicious not going to argue on that noise, I’d just do things a little differently.

Hypothetically, if 8 year old McGridd could’ve made it on an episode of Supermarket Sweep here’s how things would’ve gone down:

Step 1. You gotta strategically choose your partner. To quote Warren G, “can’t be any geek off the street. Gotta be handy with the steel if you know what I mean, earn yo keep.” I’d probably roll with Carl Lewis. Dude could long jump from aisle to aisle with me on his back.

Step 2. Size up the competition. Chances are there’s going to be a couple hefty gals, maybe an old dude or two. Need to pick out any ringers, hoes with knives, etc.

Step 3. Bribe the host. In the 90s this was Dale Ruprecht. Guy screams Rotary Club member. Just tell him I donated some coin to the March of Dimes I bet he’ll put a couple extra seconds on the clock.

Step 4. Punch out the other contestants. This is why I went with Carl Lewis. Dude should be able to superman punch everyone while I bolt off to the candy aisle with the cart. He’s a gold medal sprinter so he’ll catch up.

Step 5. Go for the following items:

4 boxes of Dunkaroos

10 jugs of Sunny D

Eggo Waffles out the ass

1 pot roast

12 cases of Surge

Bagels

Pizza Bagels

Pizza Rolls

Pizza Lunchables

Lamb shanks

1 tub of Pik-Nik Shoestring Potatoes

As many War Heads as you can fit in Carl Lewis’ mouth

Step 6. Don’t even go back to the start. At this point the contest is over. I might’ve even won but its not worth it. Take the cart and bolt out of the store ASAP. Carl Lewis’ people should have a handicap access VW Eurovan idling in the parking lot. Load that cart up on the ramp and floor it home.

Step 7. Move to Mexico. At this point I’ll probably be wanted by the law. Quick note should be able to explain to my folks why I won’t see them for a good 12 years. I’d probably change my name to Ronathen Samuels. Good news is all that awesome food I just hot pieced should last a few days weeks.

Step 8. Reveal my real identity many years later, after the legal dust has settled of course. Maybe send an anonymous letter as the legendary ‘Supermarket Sweep Bandit’ or something. Chances are chicks will be rock hard for an outlaw. Pick the hottest one, settle down and pop out a few McGriddle jrs.

Step 9. Write a memoir. Make millions. Adopt a family of squirrels. Retire in Sun City West, AZ.

As you can see, its nine simple steps to a life of success, being a badass and absolutely dominating Supermarket Sweep. Probably going to sit the next few plays out, though. It is now clear to me that this blog was a stretch and a half.

-JD

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