For those of you that live with your parents, or can recall living with your parents, or even live with a roommate of some description (although, when you live with a roommate, you usually have some control over what is in the refridgerator, so, never mind-- you lose)... damn it, I've strayed away from the point again! What was I saying? Oh, yes, living with your parents. To be truthful, I don't really mind living with my parents (my sister is a different story) but I have a problem with what my family eats. Have you ever opened the refridgerator to find it fully stocked with food, but, to your dismay, notice that nothing in said frige looks remotely appetizing? That is what it is like at my house.

My whole family eats junk food galore. I, being a teenager, should be absolutely thrilled about this, shouldn't I? Yes. But I'm not. Because I am a very strange teenager. I don't particularly like anything sweet-- I don't even put put sugar in my coffee (with the exception of yesterday morning. But, seeing as I didn't sleep at all, I blame my tired haze for somehow ending up with two spoonfuls of sugar in my coffee. Yech...) Anyway, my house is devoid of anything healthy at the moment (and, for that matter, at most moments) and I am very annoyed. The only thing I could stand to eat today was a peice of toast.

On the subject of toast, how many million Americans own toasters? Lots and lots, my dear readers. If I were to run a poll, I would find that many, many, many people owned toasters. Do you know that little dial on the side of the toaster that you can set to a number so it makes your toast just right? That dial is the most slimy, grotesque, repugnant, evil little liar on the face of this earth! Try it yourself-- get a loaf of bread from your local supermarket, and take out a piece of bread. Label this piece of bread "exhibit A". Take several more pieces and label them Exhibits B, C, D, E, and F. What you label them with isn't my problem. I would suggest some sort of marker, but not if you plan to actually eat the toast (this is a wonderful experiment to do while making breakfast for your family-- just make sure you spread jelly over the letters you wrote on the toast. Serving toast with large letters on it tend to make people uneasy around you.) Anyway, toast each piece in your toaster (obviously) and see how they turn out. If you have an average American toaster, your toast is screwed. Ask for three toast, you get six toast, ask for six you get two and a half, ask for one toast and the toast isn't toast at all-- it's bread, ask for four toast and you burn the house down. It's the same with waffles.

My idea: Toasters are evil robots created by Russian communists that must be stamped out. If we keep them in our homes, they are going to take advantage one day and take over in what will be known as the Toaster Rebellion...

Have I ever mentioned that I am very, very paranoid? Well, either way, my toaster is going out in our next garage sale-- I'm not going to be fooled. I will use the oven to make toast from now on, or, as I live in California, I can probably make it on the sidewalk with the eggs.