I didn’t appreciate the condescending implication that he has more control than I do, but I admired the health-conscious logic and embarked on my snack session with the same vigilance and restraint. I was actually impressed by the fact that no matter how hard I shook and manipulated the bag, only one combo at a time could escape into my palm, allowing for a controlled, responsible snack experience.
20 seconds in:
Then I just got mad.
“So, Fairway called me today. They want to know if you’re ok.” — Eric
“Your hands smell like cheese snacks.”
— woman giving me a hand massage at the hair salon.
Me (watching Eric troll on Amazon): “It’s ridiculous how much you love to buy things.”
Eric: “Only things I NEED, though.”
Then he added this to his cart:
Hey teachers! Guess what? I just discovered that cheese makes the perfect after-school snack on a particularly rough day, just as long as you make sure it’s brie and that there’s an entire wheel of it and that you’re alone and that you eat it with your fist and that you salt it with your own tears.