A month or so ago, I went to an end-of-the-school-year party with some cellists. At this party, I was re-introduced to an old addiction of mine. I broke the habit years ago, but when it was my turn, I joined in, acting like it was something I ate every day, anyway. And I managed to wait an entire 24 hours before going to the store and buying a bottle of my own. I'm talking, of course, about Nutella.
It is evil, tasty, tasty, tasty goodness. You use it like you would peanut butter, only it's exactly 50 million times tastier. You go through life just fine until you try Nutella. Even once is too much because you'll suddenly realize your body has a need for chocolate hazelnut spread and suddenly everything else is considered of secondary importance until your tummy has just one more crepe with fresh raspberries and Nutella. Evil, tasty, tasty stuff.
I sometimes hear what folks think musician parties are like and I compare them to the parties I've been to. Yes, booze (beer or wine, usually). And now we can see: yes, drugs like Nutella. I roll with a dangerous crowd. And now, some Nutella on toast for breakfast!
An Erinku:
Frederick
my piggy bank
empty
but happy
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