Posted in food, life

Pimp My Chips

Earlier today, I made the unfortunate decision to buy a regular serving of chips for lunch. To be blunt and to have no other way of describing the absolutely rancid excuse for a meal I had received, they tasted like the smell of human feces … or shit, if you’re French.

Out of utter disgust, I had to learn how to use a credit card to pay for a $3 bottle of water. It was my first time using the card for a purchase. But thankfully after five painful minutes of the store clerk begrudgingly guiding me through each step, I had obtained my glorious plastic chalice of healing and drank the lot in a minute flat. My body can thank me later for the extra 600ml of fluids that it has to process during Mental Health class. People probably thought I was getting a bit weak at the knees during the in-depth class discussion regarding depression. Truth was, I just really needed to go to the bathroom.

Still … going to need to find a place that can actually make chips taste like chips and not excrement.

"No amount of chicken salt could save them."
“No amount of chicken salt could save them.”


Dandy, a slightly spiritual and shamelessly materialistic paradox of a person, posts a handful of meek blog entries reflecting upon his daily experiences, scatterbrained thoughts and/or all types of crazy crap.

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