In the midst of all this bitterness over the tragedy that our lives have turned into (exaggerated of course, we don’t want to sound ungrateful for our blessings but we must keep up a veneer of whinified distress), Smoketh and I have sighed that truly we wish we were born with a silver spoon rammed down our throats. Of course Smoketh herself was born with a silver spoon and 6 bronze kanyons, but we are referring to those people who were born with a silver spoon, went to college, took up medicine, got married, went places, and still, after all those years, still have the fucking silver spoons epoxied to their ngala-ngalas. Truly it takes a whole lot of luck, intelligence, and great decision-making skills to maintain that thing you could perpetually suck on.

“Yayaman kaya tayo,” Smoketh inquired as she guzzled in an extremely saccharine alcoholic drink.
“Rest assured that if I get rich, I will buy you…. a tub of green tea ice cream.”

A common friend immediately popped in our heads. We realized that he is the perfect example of being born with a silver spoon and maintained it through sheer intelligence and more silver spoons.
“He does not only have a silver spoon,” Smoketh enthused. “He also has all sorts of silverware.”
“And soup,” I said.
“And salad, bread and butter, salmon sushi, five main courses, palate cleansers, desserts,” Smoketh whined.
“And post-dessert coffee, post-coffee mints, lur, post-lur mints, and crystal water,” I said with finality.

See if you choose to you can always sink yourself further into the greater depths of depression.

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