2nd
Dinner in Tinseltown
11:00pm. Sheesh, its getting late, I better start thinking about supper. Let’s see, I’ve got a box of Pasta Roni… a can of tuna… Pasta Roni… oh, hey, I’ve got a box of Pasta Roni. Perfect. Simple. Done deal.
Let’s see…pasta… heat… bag of secret spices… oh ok, I need water here… ok, got that. Now, I need some butter… hmm… no butter. Oh, I can use olive oil, my roommate has that, great! …Wait, what’s this? Milk? Huh. Ok… I just need some milk and then… ah, who am I kidding, I don’t own milk. Wonder if I could I use creamer? … Google doesn’t say. I don’t have creamer anyways. Cheese? That’s ridiculous, I didn’t just think that. Hm. shit. Really, Pasta Roni? You need milk? You can’t just use heat? Heat I could provide…
Ah, forget it. Ain’t that the way it goes? You find a nice low maintenance, easy going, smart, kind, passionate, well-spoken, eloquent and ambitious box of Pasta Roni of seemingly good stock and high moral character who’s beautiful and doesn’t seem to realize it and then WHAMO, she wants milk… and to live in Ohio… and to be treated right. Well, sell your drama somewhere else, Pasta Roni, I’m all stocked up here (out of milk).
Alright, Hot Pocket, you win this time. Meet my friend beer, you two are gonna get along great. In fact, I’ll bet the three of us are gonna be spending an awful lot of time together…
