DAY 0: THE TRAGEDY

Dear everyone,

My name is Denise. I am Pbutter8's girlfriend. I hadn't heard from him for three days. I called. I text messaged. I emailed. Nothing. 

So today I went to his apartment to see if he was okay and found him like this:

I had no idea he was planning to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. No one did. 

I also didn't know about this blog, but reading through it and the comments you've left him has touched me. The grief I feel is tremendous. I may have to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich myself someday.

I know there are too many questions to answer here. Why? How? Why? What? In time, we will all figure out our own answers. It seems in his last days pbutter8 struggled with the sandwich he intended to eat until the pressure became too great and he felt he had no way out but to eat it now. We may never know why he made this choice, but with his last words, found clutched in what could only be a supremely satisfied hand, I think he gave us a clue.

 

DAY 81: THE PRESSURE BUILDS

Today was another day of depression and anxiety over the impending sandwich. I went to Barnes and Noble to see if I could find any books about people who have eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but when I asked the guy at the information desk if he had any he looked at me like I had a disease. 

Maybe I do. 

I know I said before that I don't have cancer...but maybe I have something else, something undiscovered. Scientist's should do tests on me before and after I eat the sandwich. If anyone knows any scientist's let me know. 

I'm starting to feel really looney. I should really be on meds. Jelly meds. 

DAY 82: THE POWER LUNCH

David, this guy I work with, has been pestering me to take a lunch with him and discuss some ideas. I can't disclose where we work or what our ideas are because it's pretty top secret what we do.

We went to the Corner Bistro just south of 14th street and both had the only thing on the menu worth getting: cheeseburgers (The only other option is a BLT, and you'd have to be crazy to get that). One bite into his burger David exclaimed, "This is a damn fine burger. DAMN fine."

It made me uncomfortable. I'm eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in 82 days and here's this guy I barely know bragging about burgers. We went on to discuss our "ideas," but I couldn't stop thinking about the sandwich. Should I have said something to him? Or worse, did he already know what I planned to do?

I may be blogging about this sandwich, but it is still very private thing I plan to do. It will only be me, the sandwich and maybe a glass of water when this goes down. I think that means I shouldn't have to preface every conversation and secret meeting I have with By the way I'm eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in 82 (81, 35, whatever it may be) days.

Screw you, David.

DAY 83: SHOPPING FOR THE BIG DAY

I knew this day would come. I had to pick up a few non-sandwich related items from the grocery store. I figured while I was there I should see what the local C-town had to offer by way of peanut butters.

I think I kept it pretty cool and casual until I saw the bread aisle directly across the way. I bet they do that on purpose.

DAY 84: THE DAY OFF

Today was a holiday (President's Day), so I had off from work. I had intended to relax. That meant no thinking about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. 

But I woke up to this email:

Woah, pressure. 

I've thought about this a lot. Why not just eat it now? I said before I don't have a concrete answer. This guy is right. I DO want to eat this sandwich. More than anything.  I'm fed up waiting, to be honest. But I also know that if I eat it today or tomorrow or next week I'll never know why I want to eat it so badly. It'll become just one of many sandwiches, and the greater implications of its consumption, for myself and the world, will be lost to us all. 

So that's one reason I didn't get to relax today.

I also saw this a few blocks from my apartment:

Undoubtedly, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are consumed inside. 

DAY 85: THE TV EXECUTIVE

I have not yet been contacted by any high-profile television executives with offers for my own show, but in case such a thing should occur I've come up with a few ideas. 

Extreme Makeover - Sandwich Edition: I travel the country helping orphaned children who only get bread for breakfast, lunch and dinner make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. 

Deal or No Sandwich: I shave my head and host as contestants try to find the top prize of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich hidden in a case. 

Sandwich War: Me vs. Carrie Ann: Renowned choreographer Carrie Ann Inaba and myself search for America's most delicious amateur peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. 

A Slice of Love: 20 HOT peanut butter and jelly sandwiches live with me in a house for three weeks and compete for my love. I eat the winner. 

DAY 86: THE JELLY CONTAGION

Two people have commented to say that they too plan to eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Thank you. I cannot thank you enough for your support. This is not easy, and to know that you are by my side, dedicated to your own sandwiches - this will help me get through the next 86 days. 

Scientist's have a term for this infectious consumption of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It's called the Jelly Contagion.

DAY 87: THE VOID AFTER

God, today has been depressing. The full weight of what I'm doing hit me. I realized that this is the first time in my life - and it very well may be the last - that I know what I will be doing 90 days ahead of time (Well, 87 now, but you know what I mean).

When have I ever had this kind of foresight before? When will I ever have it again? There are no answers to these questions. The day after I eat this sandwich is as strange and unknown to me as a strange and unknown void in the space-time continuum that mysteriously opens in my living room and might take me to the future or another world if I walk through it, but could also just kill me, obliterating the very matter of my existence molecule by molecule.

See now why today has been so hard? Who wants to think about voids opening up in their living rooms? Not me. I don't want to clean up after that mess.

DAY 88: NEVERLAND

88 days to go. As good a time as any to start thinking about peanut butter. The right brand is key. Consistency and spreadability matter.

One thought I've had is to eat the sandwich with Peter Pan's creamy peanut butter. It's the brand I fantasized most about as a child. My mom pushed Skippy and would never buy Pan. The symbolism would be clear: I'm eating this sandwich because my mother didn't love me.

But is that really why? I'm not sure I'm ready to define this sandwich so clearly.

Don't think these are easy decisions... because they're not. Its hard enough to wake up one day and decide to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. But the other choices are no easier. Sometimes I think should just eat a plain piece of toast and be done with it.

DAY 89: The Fridge

I opened my fridge today and thought, wow, in 89 days I won't have any use for most of the food in here between noon and 1 p.m. (which is when I normally eat lunch). 



I'm sorry very vanilla soy milk. I'm sorry pudding snacks. I'm sorry leftovers in the blue container and cinnamon raisin english muffins.  

I'm sorry. Yet a part of me knows it's too early to make apologies. I'll likely eat most of the food I saw today before the big day. In fact, I'll probably get at least four or five trips to the grocery store in before it arrives, so the real food I'll have no use for is now sitting on a shelf at the store, or in some warehouse or hasn't even been made or grown or killed yet. That's a freaky thought.

I bet I'll have a lot of them over the next 89 days.

DAY 90: The Decision

Today is day 90. I decided that 90 days from now I'm going to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. How did I get to this point? Well, I'm not really sure. Too many club sandwiches and pizzas maybe...but I doubt that's it. All I know is that for weeks I've been thinking about a gooey peanut butter and jelly sandwich. You could say that today is more of my coming out. It's the day I decided to tell the world I'm going to have one.

Why wait 90 days? I guess I wonder if this decision will change my attitude at all. I wonder what will happen to me now that I know I'm going to eat this sandwich. Will I get nostalgic for other foods? Will I gravitate toward whole nuts and fruit while I'm waiting? I don't know. I doubt it, really.









I know it's a truly selfish thing I'm doing. I don't even plan to share the sandwich with anyone.

But I hope that in writing this blog I might be able to shed some light on why, in 90 days, I'll want this sandwich so badly.