I feel like one Sunday several weeks ago I decided to stay in and stuff myself full of food, and that this didn't stop as it naturally does by the end of Sunday, and I've kept doing it since today.
Ahhh food, my one weakness (besides the heroin), both my fatal flaw and source of joie in this de vivre.
Truth be told, its never the meals that do you in, its all the shit in between, and by shit I don't mean literal feces, but rather all the little things you allow yourself to pick up in the dollar bodega:
I can't help it, this stuff appeals to my demographic, young son-of-an-immigrant, you'd understand if you were me but you're not, you're white and worried about the world economy...
I actually am worried as well, but its not the Economy-economy, its actually the food-economy.
Food is getting expensive. It feels like I'm one step away from a Mad Max in Thunderdome style world of sand dunes and gang leaders who look like Tina Turner. Why just this last weekend I went to a locale street festival and was charged $10 for a nasty cheesteak sandwhich (though it is a possibility that I was ripped off by locale assholes).
I'm almost jealous of Fly G who recently moved into a less-than-middle class Astoria location, you should see the dumps they call supermarkets there, the aisles lined with cheap Dr. Pepper soda knock offs in dirty plastic liters (only $1.99!!!).
I have to suffer through the horrors of an overpriced label grocery store with do-it-yourself cash registers supervised by midgets (I kid you not) and the mentally ill.
I'm kidding about the mentally ill employs at the supermarket, but I swear the local Hallmark gift shop has employed two mentally retarded adults, our exchanges are always VERY awkward.