when I need to celebrate I just cut up some toast, cook up some sugar water and eat that shit like fondue. its going to put me in an early grave, esp w/ my family history of diabetes but who even actually cares, it tastes so good
one of the many american foods perfected in the 1960s. once someone at my work caught the toaster on fire trying to toast one of these, I’m not sure what went wrong but I wish they had burned the building down
most transcendent of processed foods. when it hits right I have the same experience as the food critic in Ratatouille when he flashes back to childhood.
no idea what sparked this but i just had a random meltdown over baseball. the next note after this one was also abt baseball so i think i was just going thru something
in: reading by the lake / nature walks / bird watching like a grandpa / hanging out with my mom more because shes awesome / gardening / blasting chappell roan / running / napping / photosynthesizing / pointing my fan directly at my face while i sleep / reading before bed
out: stressing over my future / sweating / people asking why i'm wearing jeans and sweaters in the summer / sticky fingers / tequila shots
