This morning a co-worker, Analesia (and for the record, I hereby verbally slap all parents who name their children with a name that starts with “Anal”), turned another year older. In honor of this occasion there was a breakfast feast unfurled upon the coffee-breathed, cubicled masses, still thawing out from the frigid morning commute. It’s fucking freezing outside friends.

Due to the plummeting climes I figured it might be a good idea to pad my fat reserves, so I moseyed on over to Analesia’s department to partake in the birthday breakfast bounty. After surveying the sundry scene, I decided on an “everything” bagel with cream cheese. Pretty tasty, people. But as I chewed this doughy cud I started to question the motivation of my selection, and I realized I’d been duped.

An everything bagel has a lot of delicious, yummy bits scattered upon its circular surface. But everything? I think not. Does it have Twinkies on it? No. Does it have disobedient Schnauzers on it? Thankfully, no. Are there RC Cola bottlecaps placed randomly upon its baked body? Absolutely not. How about an ’82 Chevy Camaro? Sorry, no. Perhaps it’s loaded with Gremlins 2 movie posters or per chance an odd argyle sock? Definitely not. Or maybe a Firestone Credit Card or the steamy droppings of a duck-billed platypus or an Eames era chair? Nope. Or what about a teeming riot of drunken Armenians or a Casablanca Lily stamen or one of Rue McLanahan’s used brassieres? Hell no. Does it house the Sphinx or sheath a sword? Negatory. How about one of them cute Asian babies—it’s gotta have one of them, right? Uh uh. But it must, I mean absolutely must, give rest to at least one Sousaphone or at least one needle-nose pliers or at least one “I Went To Colonial Williamsburg And All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt” t-shirt, n’est pas? Actually, yes, it has those. Not!!

Sounds more like a “some things” bagel to me…