Yeah, no, these crisps ain't doing it for me. They're supposed to be "Turkey and Dressing" flavoured; all I'm getting is a hint of wattle. Kind of like old man's neck. If you're a vampire. Not enough salt, no spice whatsoever.
I guess the bag winked invitingly at my apartment mate.
Who does not have a thing for old geezers.
But is food-adventurous.
It must have been a dreary and disappointing Thanksgiving down at the yuppie food emporium. Nothing but a bunch of dessicated old Vegans gumming tofurky. And pasty gluten-free white bread stuffing, softened by warm soy milk. Sort of like sponge, but with far less texture.
Everybody with taste went home for the holiday.
Nothing but Pablum fossils there.
Potato chips are supposed to be redolent of hot fat, salt, spices. Richly crisp and greasy. Not crunchy hard and reminiscent of healthy oil.
It's like the yuppie food emporium doesn't understand the concept of junkfood. Yummaliscious fun nibbly-wibbly.
A knisper knasper lekkernij.
Idiots.
No wonder so many folks in this city look pale and wan, drained of juice, and altogether like dried up stick-insects with gym memberships.
Not even enough flavour for Turkeys.
Yuppie health-zoids.
Please register my strong apathy for all of them.
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