A good friend reentered my life recently and that good friend’s name is Awkwardness. We go far back. It was a normal Wednesday night, as Wednesday nights usually are. I was in my room, arranging the pins on my bulletin board into various infantile, yet hilarious, images. It began simply enough. Lying diagonally on my bed beneath the board, I reached up and grabbed six pins. Two for eyes. Four for the mouth. Smiley face. You know, beginner push-pin art. But then I got creative. With charming curves I chiseled a banana. With crispy colours I cleaved out a rainbow bridge. And to top it all off, my masterpiece was a dragon. Well, it was half a dragon. I ran out of push-pins. But I swear, that half a dragon was pretty half awesome. It was at that moment my hunger overrode my childish imagination.
“Yo Evan!” my hypothalamus rapped. “It’s time for some food.”
And I agreed. My brain, which apparently sounds like a ‘80s hip-hop group, was right. I was pretty hungry, but had eaten a hearty soup just a couple hours before, leaving me in a weird food purgatory. To eat more or not to eat more? That was the question. I decided that since I usually skip breakfast, a king’s feast at night might serve the future of my stomach well, giving it some backup when it’s forced to face the trials and tribulations of a bagel-less morning, a croissant-free sunrise.