Cravings of the Junk Food Kind

Milk, chocolate cake, potato chips, coffee, and Coca-Cola are my cravings. What do these five items have in common?   They are the things that I can’t live without.

When I was pregnant, I couldn’t get enough milk. I drank white milk before work, during work (several small cartons) and after work. My baby came out covered in white film. My son and I use two gallons or more a week to this day. Then, my milk monkey led to harder stuff like yogurt (the pure stuff, not that frozen kind), sour cream, butter milk, cottage cheese, etc.

For the most part, my cravings are empty calories of fat, caffeine, and sugar. In high school, I used my parents’ hard-earned money to buy chocolate cake, potato chips, and cola for lunch daily. No wonder I was constipated so often.

When I find Berman’s chocolate cake, the dark chocolate icing and the yellow cake taunt me to the point of lust. But, when I get it home, sanity returns, and I eat a tiny slice per day until it is gone!

When I was young, Mrs. Ihrie’s was the queen of potato chips, but now, I have to have Utz potato chips every time I am near Lexington Market in downtown Baltimore or other places. The sharp shards of micro-thin hard-fried potato slivers pass dangerously among tongue, gums, and inside walls of my mouth avoiding injury unless I laugh at an inopportune time at “Big Bang Theory”, “Meet the Browns” or “My Name is Earl”.

A good chip is nothing without its complementary beverage, Coca-cola. After all, if the “real thing” can dissolve the acid from my car battery, what more proof do I need?

Now, coffee is a sin all by itself. It has to be a sin to smell so sexual everywhere I go that I have to have it whether at McDonald’s or Dunkin Donuts. I blame my father for introducing me to coffee that was literally whitened by milk!

Every time a certain body part develops a discomfort, I put that craving aside for another day. I get my cranberry juice, antacid, and/or water regimen on until I feel my kidneys, bladder, esophagus, and/or intestines have been revived. Then, I can let in a little more sin.

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Debris

Background noise of a voice coming over the subway train’s voice/loud speaker. One more noise among the chatters: the co-worker or boss maligners, the cell phone users, etc. You really have to listen beyond the roar of the train on the tracks to the only cheery conductor’s “good morning. Welcome to the A-train. Wake up! Women, put on your make-up and comb your hair. Men, pull up your pants and tie your shoes. Take your husband, your wife, your children, umbrella, chicken boxes, etc., with you! All your belongings!” You can imagine his sexy, male voice emanating from under his feathered fedora and zoot suit as he smiles that flashing smile and swings his watch fob.

Who hasn’t seen someone breaking the subway rules on any given day? Whether it’s spitting, eating chicken and fries, playing loud music with or without headphones, talking and/or cussing out loud, feeding children, doing someone’s hair, etc.

At the end of your ride, as you get half way up the escalator to the outside, you notice some animated object dancing across the moving metal steps. Like a bouncing ball, the wadded brown paper object bounces up and down. Unlike a bouncing ball, there is no particular direction. The crumpled sphere moves more at the whim of lift than gravity.

There are many forces manipulating the paper– by now opened into the brown paper towel. The impact of its bounces forces it open where lift can get into its folds, and it takes off into flight. The right wind could carry it away from the subway grounds. But, between the upward movement of the escalator steps, the rushing air from an arriving train, wind that may be blowing above ground, and passengers who may kick it without even noticing, gravity pulls it down every now and then. The paper bird appears to energetically dance across the moving stair in all directions under the power of some invisible puppeteer.

[This story was written by Rosa L. Griffin, a Baltimore native writer who loves Baltimore, and wouldn’t live anywhere else!]