remains of the dinner

At work tonight.


Lest you think that I'm a virtuous, carrot-eating ascetic, I must confess that for breakfast, midmorning snack, and lunch I had cake and cake and cake. I also had cake for dessert.

Lest you think I'm a rapacious glutton, I've asked the yachtsman to bring the rest of the cake with him to work tomorrow.

Lest he think I'm some kind of pussy he can steal from, I will tackle the yachtsman to the ground and rip the Tupperware from his hands if he tries to take that cake out of the house.

sweet

I got these little carrots at the farmers market, and they're pretty sweet. I mean that literally, not as in, "Pretty sweet, dude," like some hippie says when talking about the new Phish reunion show dates, or whatever it is Phish people talk about.


The point is, I feel pretty virtuous when I eat them, in spite of the fact that they taste a little bit like candy, just as I feel pretty virtuous when I don't yell at white people with dreadlocks for being white people with dreadlocks.


I only feel slightly less virtuous for having eaten a third of a pudding after eating my virtuous carrots. I figure that if the pudding is made of tofu and the carrots taste like candy, I'm practically a saint for not yelling at Phish heads.