September 22nd, 2003


(no subject)

Hot Pockets, I love you.

I don't care that you're made of doubtful-sounding things like reconstituted reformed beef patty and imitation cheddar cheese. I don't care that half the meat in you is actually hydrogenated vegetable solids. I don't care that you have enough cholesterol to kill a small cat. Two dollars of you make me full, and you spare me from having to eat a fresh four-dollar organic sandwich that would have kicked my ass before I had a chance to enjoy it. Hot Pockets, you are my frozen food savior. You are the king of inferior goods.

Cheeseburger Flavor and Jalapeno Steak and Cheese, if anyone is wondering. (You can't get either in Taiwan. Even Costco only sells Ham and Cheese! Neener neener neener.)

Unrelated: Why are all my fellow NEHSers falling madly in love with total strangers the moment they begin college? Geez, people, it's not like you've never seen someone of the opposite sex before.
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