Even The Jell-O Thinks I'm A Buzzkill

So I had, who knows, stomach flu or something last week. (For the record? Someone who does as much barfing as I do has no business weighing the same as a manatee.) My partner brought me home stuff like rice and applesauce and berries and pudding.

Jell-O, it seems, has decided to shame me for my mental illness. "Frown," informs the lid helpfully, "is a four letter word!"

(Okay, skip over the obvious issue for the moment, because really, you think pudding can do math? Just let it go.)

Me, I was just delighted to learn that my fucking Jell-O thinks I'm bumming it out and wishes I would get my shit together. I'll take that from my mom, my shrink, and even the post it notes I leave around the house to remind me I'm just crazy, not actually desperate, but I'll be goddamned if I'm taking that from fucking snack food. The people at Jell-O got hate mail from me. I pointed out that by their idiot rules, SMILE is also a four letter word. Then I proceeded to use a good number of four letter words in context noting that "Wow, you suck for being unhappy" is not exactly helpful in a nation with epidemic untreated depression, let alone PTSD. Overkill? Maybe. But Jesus, who comes up with this crap? They have to know that a lot of people eat their unsatisfying junk food out of a desperate attempt to self-medicate for mental illness. And they've decided to shame you for being sad. Marketing fail, as the kids say.

I'll let you know if I get a reply. I doubt it, but what the hell. They're probably used to deleting hatemail from crazy people who take shit way too personally.