It's a dollar twenty-five.

Vending machine meals. I've had plenty of these over the years. Sometimes you aren't in the mood to walk to a restaurant, or get out in traffic and find something, but you don't know what. It is easier to go down the hall, gaze into a glass and metal box at a small - but diverse - selection of prepackaged foods that are meant to be tasty. I fully understand that they are not "good for you." There are probably lots of scientific reasons that they will actively kill you, but just not right now. It's not like they are a poisoned apple from which you will fall into a coma and never awake. They'll just destroy your body a day at a time, which is why I try not to make that a daily routine.

I might be the only person in the world who suffers from this, but I doubt it: a lot of times when it is necessary to put food stuffs into my body to sustain my existence, I have no clear idea of what I want to shove in my mouth. I'm at a loss. It's like my mind becomes blank and I can't remember my address or the abc's. At these times I would be a horrible $25,000 Pyramid contestant. It's on a bun! You put cheese on it sometimes! You grill it! You eat it with french fries! Uh, I dunno. A pickle? I swear it's like horrible disease of the brain. Which is why vending machines are such a nice backup. I don't have to think; I just peer through a pane of glass and see what is most appealing according to my baser instincts. If the swiss cake rolls had a picture of a busty woman on them, you'd better believe I get them over the animal crackers.

I do have a semblance of rationality when I make a selection. It might only make sense to the most childish part of my brain, but it's something. If this is replacing a meal, then I must have the requisite amount of calories to sustain my active lifestyle. Fortunately, my metabolism is still high enough to keep me from gaining lots of pounds as I consume way more than my healthy share of calories, according to the FDA. So, I get whatever I can, depending on how much money I'm willing to spend, which is usually as much as I have on me - I can't resist the lure of certain things, like gummy bears or Mrs. Freshley's Creamy Curls. And of course, I always feel physically sick afterwards. It's just not good for your body to consume a thousand calories of prepackaged sugary treats. But I don't regret it at all. It's quite a thing to sit in your chair at work with an upset stomach, knowing full well you did it to yourself, yet also knowing full well that you'll do it again with glee. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week.

I will say that I wish they put more healthy options in those things. I mean, the point of the vending machine for me isn't that it's junk food, but rather that it's there food. It's convenience and selection without having to think. It's glorious instant gratification. It's push a button, get a prize. So it wouldn't matter to me if it was a Snickers or a fresh giant apple. But I guess the candy bars last longer. However, for all of the healthy posturing I put forth, no amount of preservative-free, nutritious foods will take the place of a Big Texas Cinnamon Roll or any kind of iced honey bun. Those things have my vote any day! In fact, from now on, in any election in which I don't like either candidate, I'm gonna write in "Mrs. Freshley."