Searching for sugar, man!

How much sugar do I need? Scientists have been plagued by this question since earlier this evening when I phoned them and said, “Hey, scientists! How much sugar do I need?” And by “How much sugar do I need?” I don’t mean “how much sugar do you need?” or “How much sugar does one need?” It was not a rhetorical query regarding the general nutritional health of the population, because at that specific moment (no offence), I didn’t particularly care about your general well-being, sugar consumers of the world, but instead selfishly, egoRosstically, I meant me. How much sugar do I need?

The scientists sounded grumpy and full of corduroy. “Why must you plague us with such questions?” they chimed as one, betraying their penchant for three-part harmonizing. (It’s a well-known fact, for example, that Jersey Boys enjoyed its wildly successful 2005 Broadway run due almost entirely to a rush on the box office by to endocrinologists.) “We are busy scientists, both the applied and the theoretical and sometimes the contrapuntal. We have no time for dalliances into your random saccharinal inquiries.”

“I’ll give you five bucks,” I said.

“Done,” said all of science, so easily co-opted.

Later that evening, science got back to me. “We have the answer,” they crooned. “You don’t need that much sugar.”

“Shut up, science!” I blurted. “You’re not the boss of me!”


“Remove tinfoil before eating.”

“Can we have our five bucks now?” asked science so pathetically that it’s no wonder science doesn’t have a girlfriend and has to make ends meet selling freeze-dried “astronaut” ice cream out of the trunk of its car – a galactic treat, no question, but one that’s more akin to dried marshmallow than any dairy delight I’ve ever tried, although it is, at the end of the day, sugar.

Real ice cream, on the other hand, is real sugar.

“You know what time it is, kids?” I like to say.

The kids like to ignore me.

“I said, ‘You know what time it is, kids?’”

“What time is it?”

“It’s ice cream time! And you know what’s better than ice cream?”

“Bill Murray’s pure genius in Groundhog Day?” they reply.

“Yes, but no. What’s better than ice cream? More ice cream!”

On this night, the night of the reluctant singing scientists, I concluded my meal with a bowl of more ice cream. Just vanilla ice cream. None of that chunk-laden, goo-imbued contemporary congelation. Simple vanilla. With chocolate sauce on top. But no whipped cream. But only because we were out.

As everyone knows, you can’t have more ice cream without following it with cookies. (Again, science!) This raises a very important question: WHY WERE THERE ONLY TWO COOKIES LEFT IN THE BOX! The answer was I had eaten a row and a half the night before. And the same thing the night before that. (Math!)

Only in Canada you say? Pity. image:

Only in Canada you say? Pity.

So I ate the two cookies. They were maple leaf cookies, which are the best-shaped of all the cookies and perhaps the only truly sensible reason to emigrate to Canada.

Thankfully the dearth of cookies was countered by the availability of vulcanized rubber candies that had been placed in a bowl on the kitchen table by someone clearly wanting to kill me – sour cherries and sour worms, which taste terrible but also: sugar.

Before they drove off on their scooters, science had reminded me that you should have no more than 40 grams of refined sugar a day. But until they start labelling sour worms, this information doesn’t help me, so I will ignore it. Get to work, worm-labelling lobby!sourworms

Look! My wife is making chocolate chip cookies. I think she’s the one who put out the bowl of candy, too. Look! My life insurance is paid up!

I ate three burnt cookies, because everyone knows burnt cookies are better for you since they are not very popular – like scientists. I was doing everyone else in the house a favour by eating those three cookies and later those two more cookies and the one after that. I was taking one (six) for the team. My belly, the hero. Pin a medal on me.

At this point I cannot say definitively how much sugar I need. At this point I cannot say “definitively” because my teeth are moving faster than my brain, or vice versa. I’m entertaining myself with the spots dancing in front of my eyes, which is cheaper entertainment than Netflix. If you need me, I’ll be in bed, twitching the night away and sleep-kicking my wife, which may explain her death-by-sugar machinations. It’s a vicious cycle…

Related post: I have met the enemy, and it is wrapped in a rich, chocolaty coating

About rossmurray1

I'm Canadian so I pronounce it "Aboot." No, I don't! I don't know any Canadian who says "aboot." Damnable lies! But I do know this Canadian is all about humour (with a U) and satire. Come by. I don't bite, or as we Canadians say, "beet."
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34 Responses to Searching for sugar, man!

  1. I think I got a cavity just reading this. Apparently, like my 8 year old, you’re not buying the “but fruit is sugar” argument. Loved this sentence: “The scientists sounded grumpy and full of corduroy.” I can hear that trademark swish-swish swishing in my head right now. At least this eliminates the fearful scientist/spy hybrid. We’d hear them a mile away.

  2. You called the scientists that are friends of Curious George, right? Did the Man with the Yellow Hat and no maple leaf shaped cookies give you their number? Why don’t I have maple leaf shaped cookies? That’s really the crux of the biscuit here – why are you not filling MY sugar need? And keep your cherry-flavored anything to yourself…but send the cookies and the ice cream and some syrup (I like grade Z – I have no aspirations for improvement).

    I think all scientists will agree for $5 – Canadian or American, BTW…seems like your dollars are more expensive.

  3. MissFourEyes says:

    You can’t have a limit on sugar. Why would anyone limit sugar? Sugar is the best thing in the world. THE WORLD.

  4. Katie says:

    Why, why, why did I read this when I’m hungry… Maybe I can find a cheesecake somewhere.

  5. Tamara says:

    All the blabbing about not needing a lot of sugar..and there is a LOT of that going around..I have to say that my 99-year-old grandmother is a sugar addict. She went to the doctor today. He said she was in perfect health and will live into her 100’s. Stemming, no doubt, from her love of sugar. She also eats McDonald’s. A lot.

    • rossmurray1 says:

      Let your body be your guide, I guess. I can handle a lot of sugar. McDonald’s, though, my body immediately says, “No, no, NO!”
      Also: Sweet-Tooth Granny would be a good name for a band.

  6. Last week I attended – grumpily, of course – the birthday party of a two-year old and I can say, without hesitation, that I need much less sugar than any one of the partygoers consumed.

    • rossmurray1 says:

      As a parent, I can confirm that the only real fun to be had in hosting a small child’s birthday party is pumping the guests full of sugar and sending them home to their own parents.

  7. Pingback: Drumroll Please | The Life of Kylie

  8. Le Clown says:

    True story. I got here by pure luck.
    Le Clown

  9. Pingback: No one trusts a sober man, and other things I’ve learned from five years of not drinking | Drinking Tips for Teens

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