1). I hate when people call it by its generic name, "whipped topping."
2). It is one molecule away from being a plastic, and it is such a sorry excuse for real whipped cream that it should be banned. I'm actually afraid to eat it; there is no telling how many chemical reactions had to take place before science developed a product that seems sort of like it comes from a cow, but doesn't. Why not just eat the real thing? Neither one is particularly healthy, but only one is naturally-occurring, and that one happens to be so delicious that it renders the other completely pointless. It isn't as if real whipped cream is all that hard to make, either. I'm going to go ahead and say what we all already know: Cool Whip is for lazy, sweatpants-wearing people who have checked out of living life in favor of doing what's easy. They pop open a plastic container instead of spending a little extra time adding the sugar to cream that comes directly from a cow. And then they brag about how lowfat it is. They represent everything that is wrong with our nation.
I RSVPed in the affirmative to inlaw Bunco night, because I thought it might have blogworthy material (but I would like to point out that my family does cute, normal things, like go to the Ginko Tree for lunch, or tea at the Greentree Tea Room). And the cocktails flow freely in my family, too. Who ever heard of playing Bunco?
One more thing: it does not take a village to raise my daughter, nor does it take three people to get her ready for a walk. I manage fine all day every day, without assistance from anyone, thank you very much. I welcome help when it is available...but am also capable of taking care of things without the rest of the village. The village analogy is so nineties, anyway.
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