At the back of the hill

Warning: May contain traces of soy, wheat, lecithin and tree nuts. That you are here
strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton.
And that you might like cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Friday, May 25, 2018


If it weren't for my apartment mate, I might never have cheese. She keeps the cupboard stocked. Goats milk Gouda and Aged Havarti at present.
I am an untypical Dutchman. She is Cantonese American.
Which means keenly food focused.

What she had for breakfast was fried potatoes and a fluffy biscuit with some dairy stuff on top. Which might have been molten cheese.

It's a jolly good thing we are not romantically involved, or I'd have to share meals with her. Like, for instance, breakfast.
Food just after dawn disquiets me.

Since I was a teenager, my idea of breakfast has been coffee, the news, and a smoke. Nowadays that means I step outside into the fog in my bathrobe, and trigger the neighbors, for whom tobacco is the great evil which must be replaced with yoga, kale. and gluten-free muck.

Kindly bugger off, I've got a pipe.
Your argument is invalid.

Whenever that woman has a health checkup, her cholesterol is perfect. She celebrates that result with lobster and drawn butter. If it weren't for the fact that shellfish gives me gout, I would envy her.
I am fairly okay with cheese.

She is snarfing cheese right now. If lobster shops were open at this hour, she might have that instead.

I gloomily peer over my coffee at a Cantonese woman and her food.

Breakfast is the most evil meal of the day.

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