That Time I was Mean

Today I lament that one time I was a really mean person. My bf...f (You thought I had a man in my life for a second there, didn't you? Jokes on you. Okay, not really.) and I were wandering aimlessly around town trying to decide what to do. Leaving was not an option because, well, gas money (Did you know that the U.S. is the third top oil producer in the world? It is also the top oil consumer and importer, though (i.e., gas prices). I found a handy graph about it here.).

So, anyways, leaving was a no-go. Staying seemed like a bore because we have done everything there is to do in this town thrice. We were hungry, but we really didn't want to spend money because, well, we aren't made of greenbacks. So, what's a girl to do?

Stop by a person's graduation party whose family makes excellent food, of course. 

So we did that. 

That was a time I could literally have said, "I'm just here for the food." and meant it. Sigh. Somehow that moment seemed different than I imagined it to be.

The moral of the story: gas prices should be lower.