One thing that sucks about living alone is that you never wake up to find breakfast waiting for you in the kitchen. Nothing is better than bacon and eggs waiting for your consumption. I never get around to making myself breakfast, besides the occasional bowl of cereal. I am currently in possession of a box of Fruity Pebbles. But no milk. Dammit. I think that Fruity Pebbles might be my favorite cereal of all time. I know it would be more mature to choose Total or Honey Bunches of Oats, but I can't live a lie. I don't like them because Fred Flintstone is the spokesman or because of the entertaining, non-challenging games on the back of the box. I've based my decision solely on taste and texture. For me, there is just something utterly delicious about the way the pebbles taste. Plus, the bright colors can illuminate even the gloomiest mornings. And if you eat too much and get sick, you puke a rainbow. It's magical.

For most people, the first cereal you are introduced to is Cheerios. It's one of the first solid foods you eat that isn't manufactured by the Gerber people. I like Cheerios, but it's a cereal that leaves you wanting more. Bland and boring is what comes to mind when I think of regular Cheerios. (This is in no way an indictment of Honey Nut Cheerios, which are a taste sensation.) Unfortunately, up until a certain age, Cheerios are all you know.
That's when advertisers come to your rescue. You've hit age 4 or 5 and you're ready to branch out from Sesame Street or Mister Rogers or whatever PBS shows you've been locked into since you learned to sit upright on your own. The commercial breaks during Saturday morning cartoons open up a whole new world to you. You're bombarded with ads for toys, Disney movies and, yes, sugar-filled cereals. That's about the time I got hooked on Froot Loops. That Toucan Sam was a master salesman. I stuck with the Loops for several years. Fruity Pebbles were also in the mix, as were Frosted Flakes, Cap'n Crunch, Trix and several other flash-in-the-pan cereals that never made it past their first year on the market. The most memorable of those, for me, was Nerds Cereal. Nerds was a high-fructose concoction patterned after the candy of the same name. I became immediately infatuated with Nerds, but it wasn't to be. It didn't last more than a few months on the supermarket pageant. I took it hard. The weaning process was reminiscent of a scene out of "Trainspotting". I held out some hope that the treat might resurface. But, alas, the world wasn't ready for Nerds Cereal.

There were occasionally some circumstances that prevented me from achieving my morning sugar high. The summer before I was to enter the 3rd grade, my cousin and I were sent to spend a few weeks with my aunt and uncle in Boston. Upon our arrival, my aunt informed us that we could choose a few cereals that she would get for us to enjoy during our stay. After a brief conference with my cousin, we compiled a draft board containing our favorite saccharine-laden choices of the moment, complete with contingencies. (E.g. "If they don't have Cocoa Puffs, then we are willing to accept Count Chocula. Cocoa Krispies should only be considered as a last resort.) That's when a harsh reality was thrust upon us. My aunt notified us that this was a healthy cereal house. After the initial shock wore off, we all agreed on Kix, just as the commercial predicted we would. And all was well.

There were also times that I convinced myself that I liked Wheaties, despite the unpleasant taste. This occurred in junior high, when I was trying to be grown-up, and Jordan was on the box cover. (For the record: I also drank Gatorade, bought Nikes and wore Hanes undershirts. Hell, I would've purchased Dentu-Creme if MJ were in the ads.)

Luckily, advertising doesn't affect me much anymore. Nowadays, I choose food strictly due to taste. Now, if you'll excuse me, something is telling me that Carmen Electra would be attracted to me if I get Taco Bell for dinner.