Starbursts

Bam.

Okay, no really.

I was eating dinner tonight and the conversation at the table came around to the fabled winter break. Which is a mere two weeks away! And I happily announced that we had sixteen days off. Counting weekends, but whatever.

My dad muttered something like, "oh, to accomodate Kwanzaa and Hanukkah and such crap."

"Dad," I said. "Come on. I'm sure you wouldn't like it if they didn't let Christians off for Easter or what have you."

"One nation under God," he retorted.

Ouch. Welcome to America, Cypress. *for more free sarcastic commentary, please stay tuned*

"You can't try to control someone's religion," I mumbled, a little bit hurt. "It doesn't work." I don't know if he heard me, because he didn't reply and my sister, sensing silence (which is forbidden in my house *ominous music*) changed the subject to horse saddles or something stupid like that.

So I cleared the table and went upstairs and ate a Starburst. Because Starbursts make the world better.

(Naturally they have gelatin. Is there anything in the world that doesn't totally kill animals to make peoples' lives better and their thighs extraordinarily fat? I shouldn't complain though. You poor creature that died, just so I could have a Starburst tonight. Thank you, so much, because you made me feel better. May your spirit be forever blessed because you died for the sake of simply human enjoyment and thigh obesity.)