(no subject)
allow me to set the scene: it is 2009. the last time you ate a pop tart was 1995. it was cherry flavored with frosting and multi-colored sprinkles. you were at your neighbors house. you remember this because your mother would never buy pop tarts. she wouldn't buy pop tarts or soda or cereals without the words "flake" or "bran" in their name. the best you ever got was OH's. honey bunches of oats was a close second, and fruit loops showed up on special occasions, only as a consolation. there were cool cereals, but you didn't eat them.
anyway, the year is 2009. you are sitting alone in your room. it's night time. only your desk lamp is on. you have just smoked a joint (a marijuana cigarette, for those of us not inclined). you don't want to go downstairs for fear of interacting with your roommates who, soberly and lifelessly, are plugging away at their homework. but you are SO HUNGRY. so hungry that you couldn't possibly imagine not eating. so hungry that the very thought of an unowned box of macaroni and cheese sitting in the dark on the shelf of a major chain supermarket or sketchy convenience store at 1 A.M. surrounded by other aligned and silent boxes of macaroni and cheese makes you uncomfortably anxious.
so you have to find options in your room. you remember your mom has recently sent you a care package, and upon investigation you pass up the lightly salted mixed nuts. popcorn can't be popped in a bedroom, no one wants to drink salsa by itself, and quite frankly you've received your share of (almost) useless condiments.
but inside, tucked snugly into the cardboard corner is a small, silver packet. this small silver packet contains a s'mores flavored pop tart. two smore's flavored pop-tarts. you are aghast in stoned disbelief. you actually cannot believe your eyes. the last time you were this shocked was 1993 when you saw t-rex make a porta-potty feast out of the annoying side character mercenary in jurassic park. you slowly peel the wrapper open and notice your dumbfounded quasi-reflection in the silver foil. you eat the contents, two chocolate and marshmallow stuffed pop tarts. actual pop tarts. two actual pop tarts with two actual swatches of frosting coating them. you are left in absolute, confused, sugar-dazed and joyous amazement.
anyway, the year is 2009. you are sitting alone in your room. it's night time. only your desk lamp is on. you have just smoked a joint (a marijuana cigarette, for those of us not inclined). you don't want to go downstairs for fear of interacting with your roommates who, soberly and lifelessly, are plugging away at their homework. but you are SO HUNGRY. so hungry that you couldn't possibly imagine not eating. so hungry that the very thought of an unowned box of macaroni and cheese sitting in the dark on the shelf of a major chain supermarket or sketchy convenience store at 1 A.M. surrounded by other aligned and silent boxes of macaroni and cheese makes you uncomfortably anxious.
so you have to find options in your room. you remember your mom has recently sent you a care package, and upon investigation you pass up the lightly salted mixed nuts. popcorn can't be popped in a bedroom, no one wants to drink salsa by itself, and quite frankly you've received your share of (almost) useless condiments.
but inside, tucked snugly into the cardboard corner is a small, silver packet. this small silver packet contains a s'mores flavored pop tart. two smore's flavored pop-tarts. you are aghast in stoned disbelief. you actually cannot believe your eyes. the last time you were this shocked was 1993 when you saw t-rex make a porta-potty feast out of the annoying side character mercenary in jurassic park. you slowly peel the wrapper open and notice your dumbfounded quasi-reflection in the silver foil. you eat the contents, two chocolate and marshmallow stuffed pop tarts. actual pop tarts. two actual pop tarts with two actual swatches of frosting coating them. you are left in absolute, confused, sugar-dazed and joyous amazement.