Waffles (well sort of)

I am a very picky eater, remember that Arthur book where DW won't eat spaghetti: it was based on me. I don't like angel hair pasta or milk or unsteamed broccoli or a lot of other things; but, if I do like something I will embrace it wholeheartedly forever: waffles are the greatest testament to that claim.

I love everything about waffles. I prefer them over pancakes because the syrup get's stuck in the little boxes, I like that they're crispy on the outside and warm and chewy on the inside. I love going on vacation because the Marriot has the best waffle mix. I actually prefer waffle fries to regular fries because they closely resemble my favorite food. If I was on death row and they asked what my last meal would be I would say waffles with maple syrup, butter on the side, apple juice and bacon (all from the Marriot please). Even though I love waffles, I refuse to eat at the Waffle House because honestly the sign itself looks really beat up and I like my waffles to be quality. I'm losing track of the point here.

Today is exactly 3 weeks after my 17th birthday, or as most people like to call it Christmas. Nearly 52 weeks ago for my 16th birthday I asked my mom to buy me a waffle maker (in the store), she told me maybe later (which basically means no). (I thought about buying my own, but I'm a useless teenage girl who spends all of her money on online shopping instead of on important things like waffle makers). ANYWAYS I woke up this morning and in my mom's hands was a WAFFLE MAKER!! I know what you're thinking: "Who asks for a waffle maker you freak". And guess what my parents already know I'm a freak that's why they bought it for me!

Here are the first waffles made on my waffle maker. They're from scratch because okay is not good enough.

I know what you're thinking: this is a diary post, please put this somewhere else. But believe me there is a point to this post.

I'm not just a picky eater, I'm a picky person, point blank. If I don't like it I won't get it, I don't care if Obama gave it to me (okay maybe I'd accept it in person and not use it) I wouldn't want it. And this causes troubles with a lot of things, but it also brings along a lot of prosperity: it makes me care more about what I have or what I'm doing because I know it's exactly want. I see a lot of times that people settle for whatever's there, kind of like how I almost did when I wanted that $10 waffle maker at JCPenny in 2013, but my mom knew me so well she made me wait.

I know this sounds corny and stupid but we should all be the same way. I (was forced to) read "My Antonia" and "O Pioneers" and both women basically settled for the first lame-o guy that showed interest in them even though I was rooting for them to get a cute boyfriend the entire book! Okay back to the point: whatever you're going after make sure you reach for the stars please because no one wants to be 35 years old sitting around writing about the time they married the old neighbor boy who just lost his job in Alaska and wants to live on your farm and mooch of your October harvest (Willa Cather I'm talking to you don't avoid me even in the grave).

Why be mediocre? When you can be excellent? Why be lukewarm when you can be piping hot? There's not really a point to go half way and then turn around and go home, so just go all the way. If you have a deadbeat friend let them go and move on: dead weight is useless. I guess what I'm trying to say without sounding like a life coach is: don't be boring and lame because it's easy, don't avoid change because you don't feel like it and don't stay bleh because bleh is accessible.

I have a lot of people saying things about me all the time, but I'm having too good of a time being interesting and excellent to let them bother me and I'm sure everyone would too if we eradicated mediocrity.