Especially if it’s on pumpernickel.

January 9th, 2007

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Sheesh Ben,

What the eff? Lazybones. I’m sitting here trying to be patient, trying not to write too much, but God damnit! Quit your bellyaching and find five minutes to drop me a line every now and then will ya? You’re not splitting the atom up there in Gotham, you’re making commercials. They’re so short, I have no idea what your problem is.

ANYWAYS. So I’m at the supermarket yesterday. No. Sunday? Yeah, it was Sunday. And I’m walking down the aisles coming up with over-elaborate dinner party ideas, imagining forty upperclass friends strolling through my house with champagne, S would wear a little butler uniform and bring hors d’oeuvres. In the corner, gentle minstrels would take us from this rat race and make us feel well-to-do, both financially and physically, if only for a brief time.

That’s what looking at the recipes on the side of the Mac and Cheese box does to me at this point. “Mix Ritz with Mac & Cheese? How devilish!” Of course I don’t do it. Just sandwiches and ramen for me. Soup and a sandwich is a respectable thing to eat right? Especially if it’s on pumpernickel.

Oh, but get this, and see if you can explain it to me because I have no idea. This may come as a shock to you, but Tab, the beverage, still exists. Albeit in severely limited quantities. Like for instance, I’ve seen it, in my life, up by where you live. West egg? East egg? I can’t tell the difference anymore, Old Sport! The other place is this supermarket. But if they have any at all, which is about a 50/50 chance, they have one, single, six-pack. In this whole aisle of beverages. I mean, who’s buying Tab? And who’s buying so much of it that I always get out of there by the skin-of-my-teeth with just enough to last me the week? I know not, nor is it my place to know.

Are you a fan of swiss cheese? Some people aren’t. I know so little about you.