sometimes you wake up on average mood and stride across your house hoping to find peace in snacks. you gather your ingredients. sometimes a smile stretches on your tired face. you think "even though this salsa sucks, we'll have a great time." but then you turn your body towards disappointment and find that someone had finished all the chips. you stare at nothing in particular with your head tilting down in front of you. maybe pout at the ingredients you'd collected, trying not to glance at the mirror near you. then as inevitability would have it, you replace the ingredients back, and return to your bedroom with a glass of tang. sip at it for a few seconds while deliberating how you actually feel about tang. then put on your mildly inconveniently-sized headphones and listen to some dsbm to ease your dissatisfaction.
then you come across these italian fucks again and it's like they really understand your chip/dip dissatisfaction.
then you come across these italian fucks again and it's like they really understand your chip/dip dissatisfaction.
