For the past few weeks I've found little time to keep up with this blog, follow my favorite television shows, or read more than a few pages of a book. The reason for this distraction? My foray into the wonderful world of science. I've always been a bit of an amateur scientist, but my latest obsession has taken this to a whole new level. What follows is a documentation of my experiment, which I believe will be of keen interest to both the scientific community and the world at large. Please enjoy the scientific method, in all its glory.

Step One: Ask a Question

The question, to my mind, was this: How do I provide myself with the extraordinary amount of macaroni and cheese that I require without going broke in the process?


Step Two: Do Background Research

I had a few options, it seemed. I could simply begin shopping for macaroni and cheese at the dollar store. I could buy cheaper brands and sacrifice taste in the name of saving a few pennies. I could try to wean myself from my macaroni and cheese addiction. None of these seemed particularly viable. However, Googling "How to save on groceries" led me to several websites that recommended growing my own food. Hmmm, now we were on to something.

Step Three: Construct a Hypothesis

My hypothesis was simply this: I could plant some Velveeta Shells and Cheese in the backyard, and with care and love I would soon have a macaroni and cheese tree.

Step Four: Test Your Hypothesis

I made up a batch of shells and cheese (which, yes, I understand is not macaroni by definition, but it is the prime example of its form) and scooped it out into a bowl. I poured a cold glass of Coke and sat down to watch Click on the FX network. Around the time Adam Sandler gets the universal remote control from Christopher Walken, I had finished the meal. Son of a bitch! That had been my planting macaroni, not my eating macaroni. I went back into the kitchen and made a new batch, missing the funny parts of the movie in the process.



This time I remained on task and took my bowl of shells and cheese out to the backyard. I dug a shallow hole and placed the steaming bowl of macaroni goodness in the center of the plot. Feeling a little twinge of regret, I covered the macaroni up with dirt and then nodded approvingly at my handiwork. Soon, my mac and cheese addiction would no longer be looked at as "strange" or "unhealthy", but rather regarded as the catalyst for one of the world's great discoveries.

Step Five: Draw a Conclusion

The macaroni and cheese tree experiment was an utter failure. After four patient weeks, I realized no tree was going to grow. I dug up my bowl, only now realizing what a dumb idea it had been to begin with. I briefly considered eating the remnants of my seedlings, but I couldn't tell the worms from the shells.

Adding insult to injury, Blake Osgood was selling macaroni and cheese at the flea market Sunday at an exceptionally low price. Blake Osgood is my arch enemy, however, so I didn't buy any.