How on God's green dye #A27 earth did I not know this existed? Granted, I'd wind up adding my own topping of tears and snot after crying in it over how this has got to be an obesity trigger food, but color me blueberry-flavored, I am intrigued. Intriiiiigued. The fake pompousness I have over not having a microwave has translated into me hating these sorts of plastic meal getups — full disclosure: there's just not enough cabinet space, though I'm taking the high road — but the part of my brain that also wants to buy a Nerds Rope every time I see one and is fascinated by McDonald's Chicken McBites kinda sorta wishes my life involved more fluorescent lighting, driving time and excuses to spoon one of these suckers into my ever-expanding face.
Maybe I beat my sad, office-going, elastic waistband destiny, maybe not. All I know is that if this doofy cup-o-carbs was being made by the Wafels & Dinges truck, it would have a barcrawl built around it and I'd likely be bullied into eating it the next time I stumbled past and figured If I don't jot it down, my nutritionist would never know. I think for now I'll abstain from the concoctions inside a cup that categorically should not be, though the second I ever start working in an office again, and all cupped breakfast boundaries are disappearing. If the Doritos Locos taco made me nowhere near as sick as the dastardly Bean Burrito I ate at a T-Bell SXSW party and immediately died from, maybe this has so much gook in it that it might be fantastic, like a plop of dough three times better than any regular cake-y doughnut dessert? What kind of mad genius thinks these things up?!?
Then again, I'm shocked no one has capitalized some sort of healthy form of this, like an oatmeal shake. Or poppable quinoa bites? This could be my legacy. Blueprint Juice's zillion-dollar-success: I'm comin' after you.