Because, real talk, over the weekend, I was. So I tweeted about it and the response was overwhelming, which led me to believe that it was not just I who found herself longing for the kangaroo-shaped graham nuggets of yonder, who gracefully danced, triple axeled or sometimes just plained dropped into a small, cylindrical compartment that resided to the right of its rectangular, graham nesting counterpart, full of white frosting that was, if you were lucky enough to have come from the good snack house, littered with rainbow sprinkles.
Yes, until about thirty minutes, I was stuck in the gluttonous, credulously unhealthy depths of the euphoria that was 1990. And because I’m convinced we now share a brain, I’m going to assume that you are too. So there’s good news and bad news.
You’d think I was trying to have a pair of Alaia sandals shipped over from Katmandu or something.
Back to chia seeds, it seems.
I guess we’ll always have the 90s, that little perishable Aussie and me.