gastrointestinal hubris

I ate a big fuckin' bowl of granola, man. Why did I think I could eat so much granola?


Here is a theory. I used to eat granola every day for breakfast at the dining hall my freshman year of college. When I stopped going to the dining hall, I stopped eating granola, and I guess I assumed that the only earthly place one could get granola was at the dining hall.


Then today I went to the grocery store, and couldn't find Other's normal cereal, so I was scrutinizing the cereal isle box by box, and lo! Granola!


"Mmmm," I thought. "Granola."


Then I came home, waited until I got hungry, and then ate a huge fuckin' bowl of it. With a whompin' glass of orange juice.

In other non-war-related news, my dog talks, and it's not like he's speaking to me and only me -- no, he makes gutteral dog noises, and I do understand them, not because I am psychically connected to animals and therefore recognize that my dog is the reincarnated spirit of Ghandi, but because his utterances all mean the same thing: "Please. PLEASE. Pllllllllleeeeeeaaaaaase!!!!!!"


The scary part of this is that he's teaching my puppy to talk, and she seems to have a wider range of meaning than he does. "Please?" "Please!" "Pretty please look how cute I am gimme gimme gimme gimme now now now!" "I am mad, because you are making me mad." "I am mad but I would quickly forgive you if you would simply give me what I am asking you for ever so cutely." She combines these with head-cocks and I am beholden to her every whim.