Yesterday evening, after a bowl of ice cream following dinner, I decided that I was still hungry. There had not been nearly enough of the pan-fried rice stick noodle with curried porky bits and yau choi. So I made myself some hot buttered toast spread generously with sambal. My apartment mate, who had been out to dinner with her siblings, came in, and remarked "there are cookies".
Indeed, there were. The packages had not been opened yet. Wherefore she rightfully should have first nibbles, seeing as she bought them.
I feel this very strongly.
I contented myself with the theft of some of the sour cream and cheddar potato chips from the bag on her computer keyboard, which she had re-sealed with a black binder clip.
Sambal, as everyone knows by now, is a better vegetable accompaniment than marmalade, which also goes on toast. Even sambal badjak.
Much more nutritious than cookies, too.
Being local born Cantonese, my apartment mate has never considered this.
As a Dutch American, naturally I have.
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