Today I consumed mayonnaise with an expiration date of November, 2010.
Lots of things go through your head when you eat a sandwich covered in a condiment that is well over two years old. You think, "Why didn't I LOOK before spreading this on my sandwich?" You think, "How did I TRUST a condiment from a refrigerator shared by every library employee?" You think, "Gee, I hope this afternoon has more to it than just me waiting to throw up. Or die."
Can you die of mayonnaise?
I suppose we're about to find out.
When I was eating my sandwich (ham and Swiss), I thought that Dijon mustard tasted awfully acidic. I kept telling myself that maybe I'd not spread it as evenly as I usually do, so I was getting more mustard than usual in the mustard-to-sandwich ratio I prefer. But no. That acidity was probably millions and millions of angry little bacteria, which are now descending into my digestive track fueled by their desire to live and the rage caused by being trapped in a jar of mayo, unable to grow and spread, for over two years.
Right now I'm trying to figure out whether this dyspepsia I'm feeling is related to thinking my sandwich is poison or my sandwich actually being poison.
Food poisoning is such a sucky way to die. I was hoping for something epic, like falling off a mountain, or tripping over my own foot and triggering a Rube Goldberg-esque chain of events leading to my subsequent demise. But no. Instead, I will expire with my face in a toilet, losing my sandwich as I lose my life.
But do you know what the really sad part of all of this is?
My mayo-sandwich death won't even make a decent Youtube video.
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