Some things in life are sacred. Things like the ability to sweat to your trusty Dance 90's VHS with your windows wide open, declaring to the world that yes, you can get jiggy with your bomb diggity self. And who could truly be happy without one's daily right to sit at coffee shops around America and loudly and consistently judge those more successful than yourself? Like people who wear loafers. Loafers are for loafing. When will people understand? These activities are sacred, protected by the inalienable rights we have as sweaty, dancing fools in this the race of humans. I think we all know where this is going. The most sacrosanct of all of life's joys. That's right. Cheese. Now, I know what you're thinking. Who could possibly ruin cheese? What folly is this? You're right, of course. Nobody can ruin cheese. But there is a fine balance between ruining cheese and simply refusing to do what's best for it.
In between my frantic schedule of sleeping all day and laying down a few snappy lines of dialogue for my Great Underachiever's Novel, my carefully planned afternoon was thrown way off its axis when, with feigned innocence as to her abomination, my sister bit down into a toasted (toasted!) peanut butter and cheddar sandwich. Trickery! Outrage! Shame!
Certain things are better left separate. Outlaws and sheriffs. Pirates and ninjas. Grad students and everyone else. Dogs and wood chippers (don't think about that one too hard). But more than all of these things (I'll take back pirates and ninjas, let's face it that would be awesome), is delicious cheese and sticky, cloying, passive-aggressive peanut butter. Cheese and peanut butter are natural born enemies! They are the Palin/Levi of food products. Please. Do what's best for cheese. Do what's best for humanity. Put the peanut butter down.