So yesterday, while hanging out in my office with some students, I ate a bunch of those pink-and-white frosted animal cookies. Then I started to get a sugar headache, so I dug through my desk looking for something not-sweet. I found a box of Triscuits with five or six cracker-things* left.
They’re months old. And stale. And gross. I made a face.
“What, stale?” a student asked me.
I nodded, but I kept eating it. And once I swallowed, I went for another, ate it and frowned again.
“What are you doing?” another student asked.
My excuse basically explains my entire life philosophy: “I need to keep eating them, to balance out the sugar headache I’m getting, I just need to lower my expectations.”
And then, one of these students says, nearly under his breath, “Hey there, Liz Lemon.”
(By the way, I then continued to eat all the remaining Triscuits and I saved myself from having a sugar headache. The end.)
*What do you call Triscuits? They’re not really crackers, they’re closer to shredded wheat nuggets than anything else, but that’s not really something you eat as an afternoon snack. That’s breakfast. And it’s sweet, not salty.