A Message to the Good People at Kraft (from the road)

The other day I was talking to one of my dear readers about the advent of the Kraft Mac Cheese (KMC) crackers. I think I would make a very good spokesmodel for their product. I’m witty, charming and I have the right size booty. You certainly don’t want some skinny bootied runway model for this campaign. You can’t have your spokesmodel throwing up when she sees the box. My friend gently pointed out that I was a fraud and would never land the job because I was willing to eat generic mac cheese.

She’s right. To this point, I have been a mac cheese ho. I’m admitting to having a problem and now I'm making a decision to turn my life and will over the care of the good people at Kraft. I want to make amends for my wrong doing. This is my public apology. I’m sorry I ever let an inferior boxed cheesy noodle cross my lips and land on my hips! I promise to never let this happen again. I am now faithfully and forever yours!

Imagine how nice a bright blue ball cap with a golden yellow mac cheese noodle logo would look on me. No doubt you've heard of the Nike Swoosh. We could could call this logo The Kraft Noodle. I’d love to help them introduce a Kraft Noodle line of apparel, products, and promotions. I have a few ideas:

• Bright blue ball caps with a golden yellow mac cheese colored elbow noodle in the center.

• Bright Blue T-shirts with the noodle logo on the upper left hand front corner. The back of the T-Shirt could say “I’m The Cheesiest.”

• There could be an “I heart Kraft Mac Cheese" campaign. There would be a special edition box of mac cheese with heart shaped noodles introduced at Valentine’s Day (of course.)

• How about a "30 days to a cheesier life series?" We could create 30 recipes using KMC or KMC Crackers - one for each day of the month. (We could tell a heart warming story each day about how KMC was there for us in our time of need.)

• The "30 days to a cheesier life" series could start as a contest (the prize - a year’s supply of KMC) for the best recipe using KMC and the best heart warming KMC story.

• How about a NASCAR car painted blue with the KMC noodles all over it. I don’t know much about race car drivers. Is there one named Mac?

Dear Readers,

I’m hoping you’ll comment on this blog and help me come up with some more product and campaign ideas for my friends at Kraft. Remember, I have young readers so no funny business (email those ideas to me privately :) For those of you who are writing books or starting your own business this is called “the marketing plan” section of the proposal. Consider it practice....

With warm cheesy thoughts,

Earnestine May

A Mac Cheese Update (from the road)

Late Breaking News:

Cracker Barrel has AWESOME mac cheese!

And now back to the regularly scheduled post...

A scout of mine procured the Kraft Mac Cheese Crackers. Last night I tried the cheddar flavored ones. Here’s my review:

A tasty cracker ingeniously shaped like an elbow macaroni. At first taste, it's just okay. But as with fine wine, the more you have the better it gets. The coating is a little grainy just like the powdered cheese you get in the box when you are making the real thing. Please tell me I’m not the only one who has licked the spoon after mixing the cheese powder, milk, and butter. (Hi I’m Earnestine May a mac-cheeseaholic and I’ve licked the finger I stuck in the still grainy mixture while reconstituting the cheese. Confessions are good for the soul.) Anywho - if you are a spoon or finger licker, you’ll really like this cracker. It grows on you (and grows in you - a syndrome known as “mac cheese booty”.)

I’ll be trying other flavors on this trip. I may be bootylicious, but after all the hiking I’m hoping it will be a booty al dente.

What kind of call did you just make?

Our family has a weird way of morphing nicknames. We all end up with nicknames for nicknames. An outsider would be lost. Heck - us insiders are lost too! So tonight I’m calling my sweet 16 year old, deaf, barely able to walk doggie, Betty, to come in from outside. I having to yell loudly and repetitively to get her attention. All of a sudden I really hear what I am saying. I’ve been saying this for months. Remember she’s deaf and I'm yelling real loud.

Here’s the morphing of the name Betty. It taken many years to get to this…

Betty
Bettina

Tina

Teenie
Shabetty
Shabooty
Booty
Booitcal

And finally over the last months I've been standing at the back door screaming:

BOOTY CALL!

No wonder the new neighbors are avoiding us.

Oh honey you don't look like you weigh that much.

As you may remember, a few weeks ago, I discovered that I am my own brand. Now I’m learning that me, my brand, and I need to be building a “platform”. The platform (people who get your newsletters, go to your workshops, etc.) needs to be a big one to make me more attractive to agents and publishers. For me a platform needs to be a big one to support my family sized (thanks to mac cheese) booty.

Since I want it all – a BIG platform AND a smaller booty. I decided to take me and my booty over to Curves (before I go to Curves each day I’ll need to carb load on mac cheese.) I’m here to tell you that I met my new best friend today at Curves. It's the woman who enrolled me. We’ll just call her Mrs. Curves. She showed me the circuit and it looked doable. I decided to sign right on up. Now comes the fun part. Mrs. Curves now knows things about me that dear Earnest (and you) will NEVER know and I’m not a big secret keeper.

In a kind, soft, but regretful voice, Mrs. Curves asked “how much do you weigh?” I’d just gotten the bad news earlier on my own scale. So I took a deep breath, held my head high, and pretended to say the number with self-respect and dignity. Mrs. Curves' response showed surprise and she said in her kind, soft, regretful voice “oh honey you don’t look like you weigh that much.” She might have even meant it. If not, she gave on Oscar worthy performance to get the $34 monthly fee.

Next question – “how old are you?” This time I don’t have to pretend as much to be okay. I tell her I’m 50. Mrs. Curves’ response again shows surprise and her tone is still kind and soft “oh honey you don’t look like you are 50. You look …uh …er ...you look… good.” At this point I don’t know whether to hug Mrs. Curves and make her my honorary auntie or start crying. Does she mean women who are 50 and weigh as much as I do don’t normally look at good as I do – so I must be a wonderful specimen? Or does she mean women who are 50 and weigh as much as I do are repulsive beasts who scare small children? Maybe she thinks I look good because children are only mildly nauseated and anxious in my presence.

I’ve long believed that everything in life is a choice and that every choice has a consequence. Consequently, I’ve chosen to go with the “I must be a wonderful specimen” option. Since I look so darn good, I better keep doing what I’m doing and eat an extra serving of mac cheese tonight. After all it’s gotten me this far…