Saw that on the side of a bus this morning. There’s a list of priorities for you: are you breathing? pulse seems nice and steady? full range of movement going on? Good – then let’s get down to the serious business of loving the shit out of some bread.
I imagine a guy waking up in the morning and running through this little checklist. There’s a second of panic when he opens his eyes – am I still here? Life can be cruel, it can be snatched away in a split second, you might wake up and never know you’d missed it, and what’s most terrifying about that is that you might go down the plughole without letting bread know how you really feel. I mean, it knows, sure, it’s been established, but does it know? Does it really know? Does it feel it down at the base of its spine? Is there any flicker of a doubt in its doughy little head as to the full and true and pure extent of the burning, sickening, all-consuming, furious love you hold in your heart?
But the terror passes. Of course he’s still here. And of course it knows. He pulls back the covers, slips his feet into a comfy old pair of hollowed-out ciabattas and gets ready for the day.
Fun fact: “ciabatta” literally translates as “carpet slipper”. Layers, I tell you what.
Personally I use bagettes. They’re cheaper and I find that if I drag my feet enough in the morning I can make toast.
‘Bagettes’ literaly translates as sticks, which, personaly, I find a little wanting in imagination.
Ahhh bread. It’s the best thing since sliced tea bags.
There’s not as much real estate in a baguette though. I do hate a shoe that pinches, it’s why I almost never wear my bitchin’ white 80s runners.
I tried sliced teabags once. Much too fiddly, what with the re-sewing and all.
I never did get what was so special about sliced bread. It just goes stale quicker.
Are we talkin’ McGyver runner’s here ?
Not his specific runners. I don’t know, just these plasticy, uncomfortabley pair my brother had back in the day. Well swish.
That is actually really, really ridculous.