FOOD. I love that word. I’m never not in the mood for food. I guess it comes from my mom, because she loves cooking and baking (she cooks, I eat; I haven’t exactly expressed any interest in cooking because of the fear of burning the house down). This weekend, she made rum cakes.

When my mom made them when I was younger, I would only be allowed one slice; it was probably because of the alcohol (which isn’t even strong at all, but that was the rule). Now that I’m older I can eat as much as I want.

So I was thinking about the cake itself while I was eating it. And my thoughts drifted to the alcohol content. Then I remembered a blockmate of mine, who was the first person I got to see drunk (this might sound funny or weird, or cruel even, but to me, seeing a drunk person is kind of amusing). He didn’t drink much, I think he only took one bottle of beer. I wondered whether making him eat a lot of rum cake would make him drunk again. I brought some for the block today, but I didn’t get to stick around to see what would happen to that particular blockmate. It would’ve been a laugh if he actually did get drunk in school. And before math, too.

Here it is! :D