Grrr

This post is less a coattail off of my post about tamping, and more about a traumatic childhood event that left me questioning reality and my will to exist (hyperbole, but work with me here). Remember the nascence of our teen years, when we were shelling out our hard-earned lawn care/babysitting cashola for the Slim Shady LP and newest S Club 7 cd, when Cheerios came out with a version of Frosted Cheerios called "Millenios," the highly-coveted collector's item that now retails on Ebay for SEVEN DOLLARS AND NINETY-NINE CENTS?! Yeah, I totally had a box, unopened, complete with holographic imaging splashed on the cereal container that doubled cleverly as a year 2000 time capsule. I kept that piece of cardboard for five years, only to discover that not only did my mother have complete disdain for it, but she threw it away without a care, a keepsake that was so important to a budding antique connoisseur that she took it out of her closet thrice a year and whispered as she held it to her tender-nippled girl bosom, "One day, one day..."

Thanks, mom.