eat junk, become junk
Bugles. Oh, bugles.
When I was a little kid, bugles were basically my favorite snack (which is strange, given that any other day, I would rather have something sweet over something salty and vaguely chip-like). I would do what Amelie did with raspberries, and search out the bugles with the widest openings so I could put ten of them on my fingertips. They looked like claws.
Today, bugles made a reappearance in my life. Which leads to my current position - sitting in front of the computer with an almost-empty-was-full-this-afternoon bag of Original flavored bugles - never Ranch (by the way - how is Original a flavor? I hate when it says that on bags of chips and goldfish crackers, like it's this genre-bridging, distinct taste). How the memories have come flooding bag! The salty crunchyness, the tiny bubbles on the surface, the subtley-moistened tips that collect little pockets of grease. Oh, what rapture!
I'll admit it now, I had made a resolution this year: to "live a healthier lifestyle." I guess when I said that, I meant "before you do that healthy jive, ingest as many Christmas cookies, bugles, and glasses of eggnog as possible." At least that corollary is working out for me.
To counteract all that, I ate my first blood orange of the season today. And for those who do not remember, it is the sexiest fruit ever.