There’s just one problem with Spaghetti-o’s, you say? Well, maybe not. But the main problem is that you can eat a bunch of the tasty (they are, in a salty crap food kind of way) little buggers and still reeeeallly want to steal a cheese breadstick or three from the girl sitting next to you. Grr. But they were handy to bring to school today and they are so blessedly cheap that I should not complain. I’m not complaining. Honest. Except I know breadsticks are $1.80 and I have maybe $3 on my meal card right now, so… who knows what the future will hold?
OK, I have a point. I’m beginning to think my world is just filled with weird mystery. For instance, there is a car that is parked outside of the library everyday with a license plate that reads “KAFKA” and a front seat cover with a picture of Sponge Bob Squarepants that says, “You’re sitting on my body, which is also my face!” I’ve been trying to form a picture of the person who drives this car — it gets to park in front of the library because it has a disabled sticker/tag thing, and it’s a little mystery that I work on every day as I pass it. I am just full of interesting little story starters right now. Maybe it’s because we’ve been talking (and talking and talking) about starting lines and their important in writing class alllll semester. I’ll admit, the first line of the story isn’t something I’ve ever put *this* much conscious thought into composing, but now that we’ve been studying it so hard I’m getting little first lines everywhere: He bought her the seat cover as a joke, but it lost its humor when he died. They ordered the poison fish. The fourth time they sent Mr. Blakely’s car through the car wash with the windows down, Jimmy paid to add hot wax treatment with the money they’d stolen from Mrs. Blakely. All of the Mason kids grew up to be monsters. Etc. etc.
Couple this with the normal late fall lack of focus, and Spaghetti-o’s suddenly seem like a fanTAStic distraction.