cyprian

Normally I'd sooner clamp my teeth on an electrified cheese grater and start sawing open nerve endings than be interested in reading the play-by-play of banal minutiae that makes up a terrifying fraction of most people's day-to-day routine. I know, I know, relating the details is probably cathartic in a way I won't go into, and some may find it to be compelling journalism. Maybe my complaint lies with the lackluster, milquetoast declarative style that they're written in; like Hemingway on a depressive jag. C'mon, you know what adverbs are, use 'em. But I digress. Having said all that, I'm now going to tell you what I had for breakfast.

Seriously, I wouldn't subject you to Chinese water torture unless I thought it would be good for you. And after the breakfast I just had, I sincerely think that you might want to read on. Check it:

Eire's oatmeal (McCann's Irish Oats made w/ chocolate rice milk & water, with 2:1 ratio of Irish cream:scotch splashed in at boil along with 1/2 tbsp molasses, topped w/ pads of butter, rich warm cream, and brown sugar), fresh cranberry lemonade, two scrambled eggs w/ green chile & cheese, half a pomegranate, green tea w/ raw honey, blueberries, and a fucking-A cigarette afterwards. Oooh Damn!, if you don't know you better ask somebody!

I'm no fitness fascist, but eating a fine breakfast is the next best thing to having toe-curling sex in the morning to start your day off in an irie-i way. And despite the cream, butter, and cigarette, the breakfast above is like an energy enema; and if you go all organic then you go with grace.

I hate to sound like a Jewish mother, but eat some breakfast, eat, eat, you're skin and bones. You're gonna thank yourself.