At least it's not kimchi

I have officially been single for too long. My standards for what now qualifies as "dinner" have hit rock bottom: a toasted tomato sandwich with bread that tastes vaguely like the overripe bananas in my fridge; a small bowl of what I call cereal, but which is actually sold to Korean children as snack food; a handful of sour cream and onion Pringles. And for dessert? Black jelly beans, as those are the only ones left after a week of me picking out the better-tasting tangerine beans.

Bottom of the barrel here, people.