Fuck. I just looked in my fridge. Score! Two litre carton of Dairyland just begging to drown some Honey Nut's. So like an asshole I leave it sitting there, while I go gather myself a bowl and cereal. Spooned up and everything. Go back into my fridge, and guess what? The fuckin milk might as well be empty. Hardly enough to inconvenience me if I spilled it on the floor. No worries, its Tuesday, there must be a reinforcement carton in there somewhere right? Fuck. Nope. Now, granted, I am probably the person who put it back in the first place. But still, who the fuck does that? So here I sit, eating a bowl of dry cereal. Which isn't actually too bad. But I still have the spoon poking out of the side of the bowl, looking deflated and defeated, as I pluck each little hoop out two or three at a time.
Let me bring you back a few weeks. Had a hankering for some OJ. Opened the fridge. Fuck yeah! Pulpy goodness basking in the casual ambience that is fridge lighting. As a man whose relationship with orange juice borders on obsession, I was quite pleased with my finding. This was short-lived. There wasn't even enough in there to drip on my tongue in a pathetic attempt to satisfy, if even for a moment, my desire for a cold glass of orange juice. Again, pretty sure I put it there. I do do this alot. But honestly. Fuck that.
