Stealing juice boxes from my grandmother

I'm a lot like Buster from the beloved sitcom Arrested Development-- I crave the juice. Hide your juice boxes from me and, like a shorthaired German Pointer, I will locate the goods. I've got a tooth and it's a sweet one.

Here's a random and unnecessarily long story about juice boxes I found in my grandparent's pantry (with many arbitrary digressions about my digestion):

This summer, I've been housesitting for my grandparents while they take their [many] romantic getaways up in Northern Michigan. House and kitchen all to myself. Their pantry has always been something at which I marvel. Grandma Gloria sails a tight ship when it comes to food and a balanced diet. Super toight. The sweetest most sinful snack that hath lain in those cupboards in last decade is a package of Whole Foods' pitted medjool dates. Have I ever sat in their kitchen at 2am and gorged on $14 worth of dates while watching reruns of Duck Dynasty? Maybe. Truth be told, I'm quite jealous of their healthy lifestyle and their ability to buy all organic, locally sourced, fresh, finely sliced mangos on a whim. If my lust for packaged snacks was replaced with a DEEP wallet, I would make it rain Ben Franklins down the aisles of Whole Foods and local farmer's markets all day too. On my grandparent's diet, my digestive track becomes something Jamie Lee Curtis and her Activia yogurt would envy. Pooping like a fiber-charged rabbit keeps my colon clean as a whistle and my body feeling light as a feather. Taking a recess from my strict cheez-it and cheap beer post-college regimen is honestly something my body could use in a real bad way... I digress.

So there I was, medjool dates in hand, thinking that I was at the pinnacle of my sugar discoveries. But that's where I was so very wrong. It's almost the equivalent of going on a walk and finding a dollar bill on the ground (good) and then later finding an unused $25 Chili's giftcard (not exactly what you need, but better).