Pea soup can be pretty tasty on a cold winter day. I would go so far as to say that in the world of soup, pea soup is pretty substantial. It is kind of thick and weighty, more like a stew. I find it quite yummy.
But sadly there are those times that you get a piece of ham in your soup that has a dangling, wiggly, fat piece still attached to it. As you lift your spoon the piece of ham with the bum fat-leg sits haughtily in its pool of swamp water and glares at you like, “Hey, how’s it going? Pretend you don’t see me. I’m still a delicious soup.”
For a microsecond you might be like “Ok,” but if you keep your eyes fixed on the scary globule for more than 2 seconds your gag reflex will kick in. Your once delicious cardboard cup of soup becomes a revolting, green nightmare that cannot find its way into the garbage can fast enough.
You had such high hopes for your steaming, hot cup of goodness. To make matters worse, that $4 bucks was all you could scrape together from the bottom of your purse; the last dollar of which you were forced to make out of 3 quarters, two dimes and a nickel, while the guy with the visible dandruff from the 3rd floor insurance firm impatiently shifted in his white Rockports behind you, making you feel like a loser for having to pay with change.
Now you’re slightly sickened and stuck eating a pack of mostly crushed cracker crumbs and a Diet Dr. Pepper for lunch. All because some fetid hunk of grizzle had to go makin’ eyes at you.
These boots are like that.