Fighting Mrs. Freshley

I decree that Mrs. Freshley should be sentenced to a day of basic
math with Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. I can do that. It's MY blog.

Have you met Mrs. Freshley? She bakes little chocolate donuts
for Save-A-Lot. Methinks she also bakes brownies for The Devil's
Playground. She's an off-brand of sugary, chocolatey goodness.

I have issues with her math aptitude. You see, on the label of her
little chocolate donuts, she proclaims that a serving is 4 donuts,
and the amount of servings per package is about 6. C'mon, Mrs.
Freshley! Do you really think people won't count how many
donuts you put in each bag?

OK, maybe normal people don't. But I have to stay on top of
things around my Mansion, what with my probable, undiagnosed
case of OCD. My little son, the crybaby, eats little chocolate
donuts for breakfast each morning. That's when he's not on a
Little Debbie Cosmic Brownie binge. Only the best for my
young 'uns.

The little chocolate donuts have a habit of disappearing from the
pantry. So some mornings, much like Old Mother Hubbard's
dog, my little crybaby has none. Which does not go over too
well first thing in the morning, when we are on a tight timetable
to rush out the door for school.

I admit that I, too, have a bit of a little chocolate donut addiction.
Don't even try an intervention. I'm onto your tricks. But what I
was getting at was that I accused my #1 son of sneaking 11 of
the little chocolate donuts from a brand-new package. He denied
eating any. He blamed HH. HH denied eating any. I knew I didn't
eat them. Where's Judge Judy when you need her? Out in the rain
somewhere, I suppose, accusing passersby of peeing on her leg.

After some tough interrogation techniques, I determined that the
#1 son was the culprit. Sensing that the jig was up, the boy at last
admitted to eating 3 donuts. After further questioning, he copped
to consuming 5 donuts, then 7, then drew the line at 8. That's 8
little chocolate donuts. Which I suppose, once you've admitted
to sneaking 8 little chocolate donuts out of the pantry behind
your sleeping father's head, you might as well spill your guts on
all 11. But he insisted he 'only' ate 8.

Which led to the big Mrs. Freshley's inquisition. I began to count
each new bag. You see, to me, 'about' 6 servings at 4 donuts per
serving amounts to 'about' 24 donuts per package. Do you follow?
Because 6 x 4 = 24, you see. But I found that the last 3 bags of
brand-new donuts I opened contained 18, 18, and 20.

So to me, Mrs. Freshley, it seems as if each bag of your little
chocolate donuts actually contains 'about' 5 servings, not 6.
Because in math, Mrs. Freshley, when you estimate a number,
you round it to the nearest number. If your bags contained 22,
or 24, or, unbelievably, 26 donuts, Mrs. Freshley, I could
accept your claim. But they don't. So stop trying to pee on my
leg, Mrs. Freshley. Stop treating the Save-A-Lot shoppers like
they are Cavemen who can't count little chocolate donuts.

Don't make us start a national ad campaign against you.

Any of you who buy Mrs. Freshley's little chocolate donuts...
perhaps you'd better do a little investigating. We can call in
Geraldo. He hasn't had a story this big since Al Capone's
Vault.

We must not let Mrs. Freshley perpetuate this fraud any longer.