Yeah, toast.

This picture holds special significance to me, as it commemorates my victory in the name of toast. Of course there's a story behind this. Of course I'm going to waste your time with it. Of course that's a photo of the Lemon Merchant. Of course I'm done with this 'Of course' thing. Here's the story.

Well, that was a lie, but who cares?

This all happened when I was ninteen or so. I was living with my mom still and happy to be doing so (hey, free food!). But, as all things go, something happened. She had to move to Florida due to her job, and I was offered the choice of moving with her or staying in New York. Of course (damnit, there I go again), being the idiot I am, I chose to stay.

And so a brutal battle was waged over the things I'd be taking with me. Well, not that brutal, but fierce in it's own way. I got my stuff, a bed, pots and pans, and some dishes. But I knew that none of this would bring me happiness in this strange apartment I was to find myself in. What I neded was toast.

Therefore, A battle was waged. I needed that toaster and my mom couldn't understand why. I did all sorts of inane things to convince her that without toast, I'd really and truly die. She eventually consented, and toast was unto me (or smoething). The victory photo was taken in the old kitchen, located somewhere in New York and currently owned by some people I've never seen before. Such is the nature of transience.

Mainly because I felt like it. Partly on the suggestion of the Keeper of the Cheese and well, i just like the pic. There are so few pictures of me in the world (except from when I was iddle, then they just seem to crawl out of the woodwork). So that's toast - special. Shpool!