You may remember me telling you about the pimped out Hello Kitty cell phone that my wife had made and my embarrassing experience in the grocery store with it a couple of months back. My wife was quite distressed to learn that I wasn’t kidding when I said I couldn’t find the Hello Kitty sausages because our local store stopped selling them (yes, there is one sane store manager who was able to stand up to Sanrio in Japan). That means that my wife has been on a crusade to try to find a new place to get them since and, to her joy (and my chagrin) she was able to locate them the other day:
I still am not sure why we have to have Hello Kitty on our food (it’s another one of those Hello Kitty fanatic things that no normal person will ever be able to comprehend) and even with the pleasure of getting to chomp my teeth into her and grind her up, it doesn’t make up for the nauseating experience of having to look at her on my plate.
The finding of the Hello Kitty sausages somehow revived talk of only eating Hello Kitty food again (a nightmare scenario that I have been praying would somehow fade away, but always seems to reappear to send chills down my spine). All I know is that if this idea transpires into reality, Hello Kitty Hell will have progressed to new depths that I don’t even want to imagine.