Fake Samuel

Here's the thing. I want what you have. If you're eating, I want it. And don't try to fool me with this jar food crap, because I'm not buying it anymore. Yea, it was ok, but there must be some reason why you're not eating it. So from now on, I want that. More specifically, dat. Dat being whatever you have in front of you. UPDATE: This now applies to things other than food.

As I look back over the past 12 months, I've come to realize that life outside the belly, once you subtract out all the inconsistencies and duplicities of ordinary existence, once you realize the full potential of everything that flies in the face of your own personal Magna Carta, after teasing apart the fine teeth that separate the hardships of life and the things that make life somewhat unattainable, that after all this, when you take it all with a great big spoon and put it back in the cereal box because you took too much and theres not enough milk to cover it all, or well, you do have milk, but its kinda old or looks/smells old and you're not sure what the date is anyway but you put it back in the fridge because you can't get to the store until later this week. Look, I still can't pick up a spoon, I poop and pee my pants, The Folks won't let me drive, and I lost my fake ID at the track last weekend. Life's ok, its just such a pain. Or, well, not a pain.