I opened a new jar of peanut butter today.

I know. I have a thrilling, unparalleled life. But I opened this new jar and my whole sank like week old birthday balloons. It made me miss every dinner scraped from the bottom of my 4lb jug of Costco Kirkland Organic PB this past school year. Sometimes, after a long day, the only thing I could bring myself to do was lean against my pantry with my peanut butter clutched to my chest, pointer finger extended, scooping glob after oily sweet glob into my mouth. For hours. Sometimes until bed. I know. Some people drink; at least peanut butter won't break the capillaries in my nose.

Now that I'm at home, I've been informed that this is a disgusting habit, made only slightly less repulsive by my second favorite peanut butter habit: peanut butter on bananas.

I'm sorry that the picture is so phallic. Lets call it kicks for today.