So, I’m at that phase of eating (again) where I throw caution to the wind and eat half of a Twix bar (it’s actually called a cookie on the wrapper) and 2 strips of Turkey bacon for breakfast and then have cheese with my Miss Birdie Wheat Crackers. Medically, I’m not supposed to eat cheese or chocolate but hey, life is short.
Actually, please allow me to harp on the awesomeness of Miss Birdie Wheat Crackers.
I mean, for wheat crackers they’re pretty darned awesome. I keep re-reading the ingredients to see what gives it that extraordinarily surprising yet deliciously welcomed “holy-crap-this-is-so-freaking-good-for-wheat-crackers” taste. While I’ve concluded that it could in part be the sugar, I’m more inclined to the conclusion that it’s drugs. Yes, drugs. Anything with so few ingredients, that has such an addictive effect on the masses can only be as a result of drugs.
Anyhow, I’m currently in the process of moving house and it’s kind of like a rags to riches story. Except the rags would be our previous dump of an apartment and the riches is our awesome newly refurbished slice-of-permanent-residence-type paradise. I’ve been OD-ing on Pinterest DIY projects for the past few days and suffice it to say my house looks waaay better on Pinterest than it does in reality. But it’ll get there one day. One fine day when I actually get to sand-papering that old dresser and when I finally find a proper pallet to reconstruct.
In other boring blah-di-blah news, my husband tried to teach me how to drive stick the other night. I suppose it was successful, seeing that I only stalled like 3 times, 2 of which were intentional. Also, considering it was the 3rd time I was ever driving a vehicle and the 1st time driving a standard, I must have freaking blown it out of the waters.
I guess it’s kind of sad that a pack of crackers has been my only source of blogging inspiration in a considerably long time. But then, they aren’t just any old crackers. They’re Miss Birdie Wheat Crackers. If I had a gun I’d bust a blank for my homie Miss Birdie, or pour some liquor on the ground in her memory, or wave a lighter in solidarity. But I don’t have any of the above. Except more crackers.
So I’m gonna eat one more pack, just for you Miss Birdie. Just for you.