Thursday, September 15, 2011


I was sitting on the floor in the hallway a few hours ago, discussing a series of very random topics (math, 'Skinny Bastard' - the book by the authors of 'Skinny Bitches', vegan-isms, to name a few), when the weirdest thing I have seen in quite some time happened:

The fellow next to me reached into the pocket of his cargo pants, pulled out a blueberry waffle, said: "Yes! Breakfast! I forgot that was in there", and proceeded to eat it; lint and all.

There was no Ziploc bag, no Rubbermaid container, no paper towel protecting this poor lonely waffle from the unknown depths of said pocket. Just a hand reaching in, snatching it from the dark recesses, and then biting into it, sending it to a second dark and scary recess, where it would be reunited, eventually. In pieces. With teeth marks.

Waffle abuse, at it's most nefarious.

I am appalled. I need to go drown my sorrows in some waffles. Not from a pocket.

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