pop tarts



Friday night I went to see bands and saw the Detroit ladies, including IdaRed whose pretty shirt had fancy French cuffs. Political fashion statement?

Also, if a band has a provocative name and a huge painted backdrop, shouldnít they at least not suck? I think so but nobody told them. They should read the pamphlet before starting a band.

Later I take a cab home and stop at the White Hen for pop tarts. Cops hanging out reading Maxim give me the eye and I make sure to walk straight. Go home and place pop tarts next to my head on the bed and fall asleep.

Wake up and eat pop tarts while making coffee. Realize a few hours later as I almost faint from some blood sugar thing while walking to lunch that I canít eat just pop tarts for breakfast anymore.

My father calls and when I tell him I was just out for lunch alone, he sort of makes fun of me, ďAlone? Thatís soooo saaaad.Ē Like heís one of my friends ripping on me. Which makes me laugh real hard cause heís never done that. Well, not to my face. Maybe he makes fun of me with my Mom all the time behind my back? Also my father keeps asking me what kind of meals I cook for myself. But he says it like heís asking me how I managed to fly to the moon, his voice incredulous at the thought of me bothering to put together a civilized meal for myself. I donít tell him about the pop tarts. Iím not giving him and my mom more info to make fun of me with.

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