Lemon Merengue Explosion

I can attest to being pretty forgetful at times. Despite what my "Genius of the Millenia" diploma that I got from the Tijuana Genius Society might say . . . sometimes I forget. So, when I reached into the refrigerator last night, looking for something to snack on, and found a slice of Lemon Merengue Pie, all I said was "Right on, pie!". Never did it occur to me to question the age of said pie, when it was baked, or how long it had been in our fridge. You see, our fridge can sometimes become the Bermuda's Triangle of refrigeration. Stuff just gets lost in there. At any given point in time, I can go in there and retrieve a piece of tupperware, open it and not know just what the hell I'm looking at. "Are those refried beans supposed to be white . . and fuzzy?"

But see, this piece of pie was deceptively benevolent looking. So, I picked it up, grabbed a spoon, and ate it. I did remember getting a little gassy when I first tried it when it was fresh, and figured it would be fun torturing my wife with Dutch Ovens later that night. Five minutes later, the rumble in my stomach starts. I let go of some choice flatulence, and then rush to the bathroom where I unload 5 lbs of liquid crap into the porcelain throne. I am amazed at how effective of a laxative 2 week old lemon merengue pie can be. Seriously, dump (ah ha, get it . . . clever pun)the Ex-lax and eat old diary based desserts.

That pie had been made for my wife by my aunt on the 12th of August. I consumed the last bit of it on the 24th of August. I am 5 lbs lighter, and starting to think about starting a new weight loss get rich quick scheme. You might catch my infomercials late evening/early morning on the local access channels touting the incredible weight loss discovery that is eating really old pie. Trust me, send me the 4 easy payments of $39.95 now and I'll set you up with the miracle of weight loss. Operators are standing by.