breakfast

I have a rule (ok, I have many rules, this is just one of them) about breakfast:
the temperature of the breakfast is reversely proportional to the weather.
So, during the cold, dark winter mornings I eat overly burnt bagels, scrambled eggs with tomato, and occasionally instant oatmeal.
But on a beautiful morning like today; post-rain, not a cloud in the blue sky nor any hints of the Tokyo smog, light wind, bright yellow sun, and already 25°C before 7am, breakfast needs to be cold.
So I had: a blend of foreign granola cereals (something possibly Canadian and another one from Europe, maybe Germany or perhaps Denmark?) with domestic soy milk, and perfectly ripe green kiwi fruit spooned into bite-sized chunks.
For those of you (especially YOU) who do the nosed-turned-up at soy milk, I have two responses:
1) Cow milk tastes like ass. Never liked it. Ask my mom; I'd only drink it when mixed liberally with chocolate or, even better, strawberry.
2) Even if milk didn't taste like ass, I still wouldn't drink it because of the incredibly painful things it does to me. That's right, as you've probably heard before: I am a lactard.

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