Ants in my... box.

My parents are going to be those old people.
You know... the type that:
-Never have toilet paper in the guest bathroom.
-Have food still stuck on "clean" dishes/silverware.
-Give kids ten-year-old candy that is rock hard, and stuck to all adjacent pieces.

The last one leads me to what happened last night.

Recently, I've become addicted to raisins.
Dad had a huge bucket of them laying around, so I took to eating them whenever I felt a craving for unhealthy snacks... like those super good, super sugary tamarind Mexican candies that were once called "Lucas" here in the U.S., but to all us Mexican kids, they're known as "Pelones." Yummm...
Anyway, I've been snacking on raisins.
I did have my complains... particularly, how I'd sometimes get a seed... or what I perceived to be a twig.

Me: Can't these people go through the trouble of removing the damn stem?? Damn! I don't need to be reminded that I'm eating something that should probably only be eaten by deer... in the winter.
Mom: Don't complain... at least they go through the trouble of putting them in boxes for you.
Me: Yeah... but I might as well go outside and grab a handful of dirt... it'd feel the same way on my teeth.

So... even with this problem/complaint, I'd pop raisins in my mouth.

Well, last night I was bored... and craving chocolate.
Trying to be a good, health-conscious girl, I went to the fridge to get some raisins.
I noticed the little bucket was nearly empty, the bottom being visible from various angles.

Yes... I'm almost done with this retarded box of raisins.

I wanted to finish the "bucket" because the raisins were all deformed...as was the "bucket" itself.

As I popped raisins in my mouth, I would be reading my new issue of Glamour (I've grown attached as the years go by. I also find myself being nitpick-y with the writing. I have a hissy-fit each time I find typos... or grammatical errors. I'm so lame). Once in a while, I'd feel this strange crunchiness, but dismissed it as a twig... or a small seed.

Man... I feel like an animal. I don't remember Sun-Maid Raisins ever having twigs or stems back in my elementary school days...

That's when a "twig" fell on the page I was reading.

WTH... why is it... half black... half re... OMG... it's an ANT! A frozen ANT!!

I immediately looked in the "bucket" and sure enough... there were about 10 dead ants... on the bottom of the "bucket," on the raisins themselves... just... I started to see them where I had originally believed to simply be "raisin residue."

Me: MOM!! WHY ARE THERE ANTS IN THESE RAISINS?!
Mom: What???
Me: You guys are gonna be those freakin' old people that have rotting food in their fridge and will never notice! What the hell is this?!
Mom: No... you're lying (don't you love that reaction? Why would I lie?)! Gimme the box!
Me: They're all over the place... that's what I've been crunching on this entire time... no seeds or twigs... mannnn!
Mom: But... your dad drowned them all...
Me: ?!?!?
Mom: Yeah... when he had this in his room, the ants started to invade the box... so your dad put the box in water... to kill them all... then dried the box and put it in the fridge so the ants wouldn't get the raisins.
Me: ?!?!? (my eyebrows were doing more of the talking)

So yes... I've been downing a little extra protein this entire time.
...

Why is it always during lent time that things like this happen to me?

Day 3 of dull(er!) AnoMALIE is half-way through, and I'm holding up real nice (sure, I've almost popped a vein in my brain a couple of times as I hold back the big words I wish to express, but I'm still alive).

Cuss count: 3 (Yesterday I added one more to my count because I once again dropped the F-bomb when I saw Shaq had been traded to the Suns in exchange for Shawn Marion and Marcus Banks. I love Shawn Marion... and I hate the Heat... and Shaq... well... he's... Shaq [sure, I'll confess I loved him while growing up because he was so damn cool... even his Kazzam movie. But come on! When the play named after you is "Hack-a-Shaq," it's kind of... not good]. If it would have been Steve Nash... screw this whole no-cussing thing... I would have gone on a Big-Word-tirade)