I buy a lot of Spam. A LOT of Spam.
I don’t buy it because I like it. I buy it because I need it…for my show.
You see, years ago, I got this BRIGHT idea that juggling Spam would be funny. Well, not just juggling it, but juggling it and eating it. You know, like the juggling/apple eating trick, but more disgusting – therefore funnier.
So, that was 15 years ago. I have no idea how many cans of the potted meat product I have gone through. Frankly, I don’t want to know. Even the thought of thinking of counting makes me slightly queasy. How do I go through with the routine each time? I’m a professional!
The main trouble is not actually eating it. The trouble I have is buying the stuff. I buy cartons at a time. Dozens of cans. Like a teenager visiting a pharmacy, I get a bit embarrassed about my purchase. I mean, who buys 24 cans of Spam in one visit? For a while, I used to try to pretend that Spam wasn’t my only reason for visiting the store. I’d look around for other stuff (you know, to throw the cashier off the scent). Crackers? No that only makes it worse. Bread? It was useless. I now just suck it up and drop the cash.
What amazes me is that so few people own up to eating Spam. I guarantee that it is in every grocery store in the U.S. I’ve never been NOT able to find it. Someone must actually eat the stuff. I can’t be keeping the company going all by myself. Please tell me I’m not the only one!
I usually get comments from people like “I used to eat it when I was a kid”. They then start to relate their mother’s culinary expertise with the spicy treat. I’ll just tell you now, I’m not looking for new ways to dress it up! I eat Spam because I have to – it’s my JOB.
There is a Spam Museum in Austin, MN, the home of Hormel, the maker of Spam. I have heard that it is a fun place and that they have a good sense of humor about their product. You won’t find me taking in the exhibits. I want entertainment that takes me out of my daily life.
Today, I bought 20 cans and “Saved Big Money” at the same time (a midwest reference for you). Nothing else in the cart. As I was walking out the door with my bounty, I heard the cashier singing a vaguely familiar Monty Python tune. I let her have her fun. I figure that really I’m just an entertainer and sometimes the show begins long before the curtain goes up.