Wanna hear a bedtime story?
My birthday is on Thursday. I will be nineteen. This is SOY exciting. Turning nineteen is a milestone in my culture. Where I come from (WHERE?), turning nineteen means you can drink all the soy milk you want. In fact you can walk right into a soy milk bar and step up to the counter and order a soygarita or a soyquila or a SoyMilk Mary or a soydriver or a Soy on the Beach or a Soyhama Mama.
Soy, speaking of soymilk, I reached into the mini-refrigerator for soyme of the stuff (yes, I keep a little carton of it in my fridge, illegally...c'mon, give me a BREAK...I'll be OF AGE in a matter of DAYS) and was horrified to discover that said soy milk was, more or less, a frozen block of ice. SOY ICE. Mmm mmm good. Nuts! SOY nuts! I just wanted a soy cap - to HELL with soybriety, people - before bedtime, but our frigid fridge had other ideas.
Nothing like a hardened hunk of soy milk on a chilly autumn night.
SOY it goes.