YUM YUM TWISTED ADDICTION

Hello My Name is Dave And I’m a DAN-O’s Addict

Dealing with my brother-in-law’s oddball obsession

Yum, Yum get ya sum Dan-O’s in the dumpster. | Image Courtesy of ChatGPT

My brother-in-law has a problem. He’s addicted. No, it’s not crack. It's not tequila shots. Although it wouldn’t hurt if he slowed it down on Cinco de Mayo. And no he doesn't eat dog food. Thank God! No, the filthy habit’s name is DAN-O’s.

YUM YUM GET YA SUM! Lord, if he says that one more time I’m gonna . . .

It’s deeply troubling. Not sure what’s worse. The compulsive buying, there six, seven bucks a pop. My sister told me they had an Amazon delivery last week. He ordered a 100-bottle spice rack that hangs on the door. I didn’t even know they made one that big. Parmesan! Red Pepper! Chili lime! Lemon pepper! UGH!

OMG! They went from the 5 magnetic spice racks on the refrigerator. Then to the pull-out spice rack. Then crept over to the lazy Susan. Cheesoning. OUTLAW SWEET CARIBBEAN Habanero. Preem-O steak seasoning.

They're everywhere! He has enough to last him the rest of his life and my sister's, and mine. And he keeps buying more. TAC-O, ADOB-O. Can someone be labeled as a hoarder of condiments err seasonings? He needs some serious help.

Do you or somebody you know have an excessive seasoning problem? Call 1-800-ONO-DANO.

My sister told me she found a bunch of bottles shoved in the back of their bedroom closet. And under the bathroom sink. And under the mattress.

And I found myself flabbergasted when I saw WAR and PEACE sitting on the side table next to his Lazy-boy. If you knew my BIL you’d know he hasn’t opened up a book since George Orwell’s 1984 much less WAR and PEACE. I opened it up and discovered pages cut out to fit a bottle of Dan-O’s Sweet & Tangy BBQ.

He puts this crap on everything? Or threatens to. Let's try some Dan-O's Chipotle on vanilla ice cream. Ok I thought he was kidding. He's just pulling my leg. But I'm not sure anymore.

Even worse. My sister told me she caught him chugging Dan-O’s Jalapeño straight from the bottle. YUCK! Does this shit fudgin’ expire? Or do you wait until it sticks to the bottle and it won't come out anymore?

I picked up a bottle one day to look at the ingredients. Curious as if there was something addictive in it. Caffeine, nicotine? Orange peel? WTF!

He really needs professional help. My sister discovered a hole in the wall behind their wedding picture. There was a stash of Dan-O’s SEA-soning.

I Googled the other day for support groups of seasoning hoarders. Unfortunately, there's not a specific group. There's Clutterers Anonymous. The International OCD Foundation. Hoarders.com has some great information. But nothing to explain stashing bottles of Dan-O’s Butter Dust in the toilet tank or air vents.

I’ve wondered if this is because of some past trauma. Did his mom deprive him of seasoning? Did she not put any garlic powder on his mac ‘n’ cheese? No oregano and basil on his pizza. Nothing on chicken nuggets? Did his mom leave out the “J” in PB and J? Was he deprived of salt?

My sister is at her wits end. She found a box in HER car trunk labeled Blackened Dan-O’s Bloody Mary. She confronted him with it and all he did was shout, DRY RUB! He snatched the box out of her hands and ran into the house. She thinks he was lying. He’s making Bloody Mary’s from her fudgin’ car!

She called me wailing one day. I don’t know what to do. He’s barricaded himself in the bedroom. I could hear him through the door shouting. YUM YUM GET YA SUM! She thinks he’s snorting the stuff.

I rushed over to the house to discover my sister sitting on the floor in front of the door begging him to open the door. I listened through the door but it was quiet. We panicked. I ran outside to the window outside the bedroom. It was opened a crack. I pried open the window more and crawled through it. Now imagine a 50-something woman crawling through a fudgin’ window. I wanted to beat the shit out of my brother-in-law.

He was snoring, dead to the world with the box of Dan-O’s tucked under his head. I was tempted to bitch slap him. Instead I removed the chair he wedged under the doorknob. My sister took one look at him, grabbed my arm and said, WE'RE OUTTA HERE!

But before we left the house, we collected all the Dan-O’s we could find. We loaded it up in her car and drove off laughing hysterically.

To the confused guys who work at Wok To Remember on the corner of Main and Elm, sorry for filling up your dumpster. And to my BIL. You’ll be hearing from her lawyer soon.

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