Because, really, they're always terrible!
A couple of highly insubstantial things while my 11 p.m. frozen-pizza dinner bakes:
1. It turns out that I will eat any and all red licorice sticks you put in front of me, and then, against all common sense (and, to some degree, the laws of physics) I will eat several more. It has already been established that if you possess an untended, unloved container of such sticks, I will most assuredly loot your kitchen drawers until I find a zip-lock bag or similar with which to "rescue" a number. This isn't to say that I especially like them.
2. Somewhere, there is a man, or perhaps a woman (although I like to think it's a man because if that is the case then he could theoretically be kicked in the nuts), who is paid American dollars to write the blurbs you see on the backs of books and movies. Think about that.
1. It turns out that I will eat any and all red licorice sticks you put in front of me, and then, against all common sense (and, to some degree, the laws of physics) I will eat several more. It has already been established that if you possess an untended, unloved container of such sticks, I will most assuredly loot your kitchen drawers until I find a zip-lock bag or similar with which to "rescue" a number. This isn't to say that I especially like them.
2. Somewhere, there is a man, or perhaps a woman (although I like to think it's a man because if that is the case then he could theoretically be kicked in the nuts), who is paid American dollars to write the blurbs you see on the backs of books and movies. Think about that.