it's over. move to somnia.

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Granola Boy

I was wandering out of the kitchen yesterday with a liter of soy milk in hand (I'd wanted to make a sandwich and...oh, never mind. I'm carrying soy milk. It has a long shelf life and I buy it in bulk. There's your background.) when my new roommate Dawn stops me and asks about the numerous bags of chips and pretzels sitting on the kichen counter. She's just moving in and we've agreed it's best to clear out old crap before unpacking her stuff. (Which I guess includes groceries.)

"Oh, I think most of them belonged to Adam [who just moved out and is not missed]. Mine are just the no-salt tortilla chips at the back."

She gives me a bemused look. "You're not one of those healthy people, are you?"

Of course, I make the connection that healthy = bland = reflective of your entire life and requires a rejoinder, for decency's sake. "Oh, no, oh, no," I rationalize, "I only eat chips with salsa, and the salsa is all you really taste, and..." I notice her gaze has drifted down to my hand. I look at the soy milk.

"I am not a healthy person!" I yelp, flummoxed. She laughs. D'oh.

(So my stories are boring. Look, if you want excitement and salacity, read this.)
peachy as always, Mike at 4:27 PM