You know what would be nice?
A nice vanilla milkshake, but due to my accursed heritage, "it's common for mexicans to become lactose intolerant." I'm not even a full blooded mexican. Curse you mother! Curse you a thousand times! Damn my inability to process certain proteins properly! I think that in the end, the coroner will say, "Yes, he died from lack of milkshake. It's rare, but I have seen it before. Bloody horrible way to die. Poor sod." Then on my tombstone they can write, "All he wanted was a nice cold vanilla milkshake. He never got it, and that's what did him in. Poor, miserable sod." Then underneath they can print any combination of expletive's they feel the need to print, because it damn well would be accurate. I have to settle for a smoothie. Now don't get me wrong, I love a nice smoothie, but dammit, sometimes I want a milkshake! Or even a malt! But sadly, no. No milkshake for Derek. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to nip off and kick something in a manner not unlike, but not quite, a cold blind rage...