When I first heard about Hydroxycut being recalled, I first thought of the almost-full bottle I have in our upstairs bathroom. I turned to Mike and asked, “Are you pondering what I’m pondering?” Unfortunately, Mike has never watched Animaniacs, so instead of replying with, “I think so, but where are we going to find a duck and a hose at this hour,” he just shrugged.
If I had been married to Tony Soprano, he and I would figure out the street value of FDA recalled weight loss pills and squirrel it away for Nathan’s college fund, but if I had really married the murderous head of a mob who pronounces “whore” as “hoo-ahh,” and not my wonderful husband who never refers to women like that, I don’t know if my son would really go to college. He would probably go to crime camp, or whatever school where they teach people to jimmy locks and draw butts on the sides of new houses. This means I could use my Hydroxycut-blood-money to do something else like buy more royal crowns on my new iPhone addiction: Undead Live!
The pills worked the first week I took it, mostly because I was so amped that I didn’t eat. I could file with tremendous speed! I could pace from my desk to the color copier and back again! Did you need me to bench press those banker boxes? Because I totally could, as long as they were empty and someone else was spotting me. I stopped taking them after a few days, not because they were making me super-hyper, but because they tasted so awful. That’s my problem with pills in general. The horse pill cocktails I took daily during pregnancy were incredibly foul tasting. Try a fish-oil burp. It tasted like someone farted in my mouth and sealed it shut with duct tape and then brought out an egg sandwich he’d made the day before and then ate it in a closed room.
I’m going to toss this pills out. The recall mentioned severe liver damage and why would I let pills do the job that a bottle of whiskey does anyway?