Junk Phooeyed

I was talking to a friend recently about how, when you were really young, you couldn't wait to grow up so that you could buy yourself all the Happy Meals, Cookie Crisp, and Little Debbie that you wanted. Once you made your own money, dinner could suddenly consist of ice cream cakes and marshmallows and there would be no parental interference.


What's hilarious is that her original point in bringing this up, is that a meal of Cheetos topped with Cheez-Its would now be a nightmare for her, now that she craves mixed greens and celery roots; however, I think that it would still be awesome. I think that my taste buds are not so different than what they were when I was 7. The only reason that I don't hide a lunchables in my thong is that I am trying not to be a candidate for gastric-bypass surgery. But if you did put an ice cream cake in front of my face, I bet I could polish off a large portion of it.


I bring this up because I am sitting here eating a bowl of Kashi Go Lean, but what I really want is a bucket of fried chicken with all the fixins.