After eating the equivalent of Ireland’s GDP yesterday, we decided to have a healthy breakfast today:
Somehow I get the impression that the health-value of a bowl of cereals is drastically devalued by the fact that it’s not a 30g serving of oatmeal, but a 100g serving of sugarcoated, chocolate-infiltrated obscenities. The shock-frosted Special-K red berries probably don’t help much either.
Nevertheless, I still feel much better now. May FSM have mercy on all those dead animals I devoured yesterday.
It’s not often that I leave the house before having had a cup of coffee. Today I did, but only to get something I deemed essential for today’s breakfast, which would be those two:
All I wanted were fried eggs the way you get them in certain restaurants (or in that MacDonald’s breakfast burger, which, I think, they call a muffin). Well, first of all, for the size egg I was using, they were far too small. It all went overboard. Second, the damn plastic handles, the tiny little plastic handles, actually started to melt. Which is good if you’re into molten plastic, not so good if you deem it toxic.
Definitely not worth forsaking your first cup of coffee.
Today’s the fifth, and if you are like me, you’ve probably forgotten or even never heard of the fact that it’s the official Krampus day. Krampus, yet another one of St.Nicholas’ helpers, traditionally beats up little children who didn’t behave.
Fortunately, even cruel whipping can be turned into fun (apart from the, uh, rather obvious, but wholly unsuitable practice for children), by wrapping it all up in tinfoil.
I got this Krampus pictured above from a co-worker today. Which I hope is merely a gesture of demonstrating my being integrated into the office-society and not an indicator of how much I deserve a whipping.
Sometimes after work I get this craving for Döner Kebap. So I go to this place that opened up about a year ago, which serves Döner that is about twice as expensive than the other ones, but it’s really just the best, hands down.
So today I went, and after receiving that little piece of cellophane-wrapped heaven I ambled back to my flat, when from a distance I spotted a female beggar in front of the grocery store. Equipped with at least one crutch and physical deformity, beggars have become quite popular in my district. And lately they’ve started to augment their arguments by exposing their deformities. Crippled feet, scarred bellies, the works.
So when I passed the lady, I made sure to look the other way. Yes, quite antisocial, I know. But I was hungry, I wanted to devour my Döner. And didn’t have any change. Ok, that’s a lie, I did have change. Anyway, as I turned my head the other way, I heard her mutter her line: “Need money, please spare change”. And then she said something that sounded like “cheese sandwich”, and without any chance of fighting it, an image of crippled feet, scarred bellies, cheese sandwiches and a combination of all three popped up in my head.
And all of a sudden that little wrapped packet of grilled lamb’s meat inside a crispy bun of bread didn’t water my mouth at all anymore.
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