Ye Olde Snacking Tyme

It's a hangover kind of morning. The same kind of morning you teeter on baby deer legs into the bathroom, and emerge with a pad stuck to you pajama bottoms, only halfway sure you didn't just pee in the linen closet.

The only thing Aubri wanted more than sleep on this morning, was food because:
1. She always wants food. And
B. Nothing is worse than vomiting when the only thing you've consumed in the past 16 hours are vodka and cranberry juice.

Using all her motivation and strength Aubri works her way into the kitchen with dreams of pancakes and potatoes. What she finds is the cold, harsh reality that everything edible requires at least heating if not mixing.

Near tears (seriously), Aubri mentally commits to starting a business with the sole purpose of picking up and delivering McDonald's breakfast for drunks like herself who can't wake up before the entirely too early 10 AM deadline for those incredible greasy hash browns.
Or at least, she'll find someone who she can pay to start and run the company.

As if the fates were guiding her, Aubri happens upon the remnants of the party she hosted just a week before: A bag of potato chips, a tub of pretzels, and dip (insert soundbite of a choir of angels here).

The problem: the chips are just the last bits of crumbles much too small for holding let alone scooping dip.

The solution:



Pour the chip remnants onto a paper plate, stick the pretzel rods into the dip, then using the onion-y adhesive, gather the salty chip goodness for a near perfect snack.

And yes. The picture was taken, and the food consumed, in bed.

Bonus mini Playlist:
(In the tradition of Dork)

Martini's: Right Behind You
Magnetic Fields: The Desperate Things You Make Me Do
Lincoln: Unhappy
Frank Black: Six Legged Man
Julie Doiron: Consolation Prize