So I sit here, hungry, I’m going to eat, believe me, I will eat, I just don’t know what I’m going to eat, or why I’m using so many comma’s, but I feel like I can’t stop, or I may be addicted. Oh look I just stopped. Fancy that.
My choices are chili with of course crackers and some onion I’ll chop up into it, well not just some onion, they’ll be a lot of onion in it, I happen to like onion very much. The only problem is it’s homemade chili, but that’s not really a problem, the real problem I will state in a second, unless you go away and do something else, then I’m afraid it will take more than a second before you find out the real problem, but instead it will take however long you take until you come back to read this to find out what the real problem with the chili is, but what if you never come back? Well don’t do that, I really want you to know what the real problem with the chili is. It’s monumental. Okay, are you ready? Are you back from whatever you were doing? Good. The real problem is that as a result of it being homemade by my step-dad it has large chunks of tomatoes in it (that wasn’t monumental at all) I don’t like tomatoes, although lately I’ve grown to like them a little better.
Another option I have is rice. There is a big pot of rice on the stove. I’m not sure why it’s there or how long it’s been there, but it’s there, and therefore it is an option for me to eat. Rice isn’t bad, but I can’t make a main course of it. Perhaps I could have some on the side with my chili (that kind of thinking is going to get you thrown in the loony bin). Now that I went back to take a second look at the rice it doesn’t look that savory. It has small chunks of tomatoes cut up into it. My step-dad appears to be a psychopath who is trying to get me to commit suicide because every God damn food item in the house I don’t want to eat because it has chucks of tomatoes in it. Perhaps I could cut up some onion for the rice and that would mask the taste of the tomatoes, or would the tomatoes mask the taste of the onions? Experiment time.
I made three sandwiches last night before sleepy time because the slices of bread weren’t that big and I thought two sandwiches wouldn’t fill me up. The sandwiches weren’t anything marvelously spectacular as a sandwich should be, but rather one was peanut butter and raspberry jam, another was peanut butter and banana and the third was peanut butter, raspberry jam and banana. It was the second of which that I couldn’t eat. I ate the one with the trifecta of ingredients first, and that surprisingly filled me up pretty good, but I forced myself to eat the peanut butter and raspberry jam, and after that there would be no forcing myself to eat the third sandwich otherwise I would have to force my bowels to… well you get the picture. So I wrapped up my third sandwich in a plastic bag, a plastic bag apparently from Walgreens which is odd considering I never go there (you go there all the time) shut up, I lie for the sake of humor (what humor) I despise you. So I have the sandwich in the bag and I plan to eat it at some point, I just don’t know if now is that some point, but I am rather hungry and now starting to wonder why the fuck I choose to write this instead of getting something to eat.