A story of love, lust and betrayal.
One of my worst kept secrets is my passionate love affair with flavoured milk.
Not milkshakes (though those too are delicious), but simple flavoured milk. Nesquick has been as constant in my childhood home as tea (chocolate for me and the boys, strawberry for my mom. Angus went through a brief crème soda and banana stage which we all look at with shame and the wisdom of retrospect).
But now that I have left the nest, and with help from a friend in Honours year in Stellenbosch (he would only drink the crème soda flavour: blargh; mostly when hung over), I became slowly but most definitely and very firmly attached to Steri Stumpies.
I have advocated flavoured milk’s health benefits in the past (and no, research was not funded by the big Flavoured Milk Companies) and it is the one thing I will often indulge in with minimal guilt. My colleagues know when they ask, “I’m going to the 22nd floor, can I get anyone anything?” that my answer is, almost always – after a contemplative ‘ooh’ – “A Steri Stumpie please”. Co-worker Adele recognises my ‘should-I-get-a-Steri-Stumpie-hells-yes’ moan and doesn’t even need me to finish the sound before she’s collected my crisp R10 note and flavour preferences (chocolate, strawberry and finally coffee).
Friends, family and yes, The Boyfriend too, all associate me with the flavoured milky goodness. I’ve had a few people say they think of me when they see a Steri Stumpie. There are worse things to be associated with, I guess, though there are better things too.
So it was like getting a golden note, tied to the leg of a dove, hand-written by Oprah, Dylan Moran (or any documentation at all from The Department of Home Affairs) when Steri Stumpie tweeted me asking if I’d like some free Steri Stumpies. Ah social networking, you biscuit you! I never imagined my plaintive tweet (“Need… Steri Stumpie…”) would result in me actually getting Steri Stumpies delivered to my desk.
A week after the tweet (and after I’d mailed someone my real name, home address, work address and cellphone number: if it wasn’t Steri Stumpie boy was I in trouble) an assorted six pack was delivered to my desk at work.
Needless to say, I was ecstatic. The Boyfriend said resignedly on the phone to me the day before, “You’re more excited about getting the Steri Stumpies than you are about seeing me, aren’t you?” Keeping in mind that we do long distance, I find it hard to deny that statement out right while maintaining my credo of honesty.