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In defense of avocado toast

Is it a fruit? A berry? Does anyone really care?

3:42 PMA hilarious convo erupted on the internet Monday afternoon surrounding an interesting food item: avocado toast. It was all sparked by a Time magazine story with the headline “Millionaire to Millennials: Stop Buying Avocado Toast If You Want to Buy a Home.” In short: lol.

The basic premise here is that stupid, shortsighted and pound-foolish millennials are too busy eating quasi-luxury items like avocado toast instead of giving their money to old white men on Wall Street who might decide that they either want to steal it or gamble it away in a Ponzi scheme. Because that’s what we’ve always done, and what with the ChapSnats and the Venmobook ruining The Way We Used To Do Things, the economy is all upside down and everyone is renting microapartments and Ubering to work in the gig economy instead of living like the Jetsons.

To which I say: Whatever.

The more important conversation here is about avocado toast as a luxury item, and where it stands in the food hierarchy. Once one of those things that was best enjoyed as a breakfast life hack in one’s own home for quasi-creatives in the kitchen, it has now moved onto restaurant menus to be enjoyed by brunch monkeys across the nation. Back when I was into this bit, a great life hack if a place had avocado on the menu was to just describe how to make it and ask for it. That typically landed you with a fun, creative dish from a chef who got to branch out without too much effort.

But a $22 avocado toast? That’s insane. For a couple of different reasons. No. 1, avocados just aren’t that good. Cut one open, throw on some sea salt, perhaps, and a dash of hot sauce? Delish. Maybe mix in some bread, a runny egg yolk and, if you want to get crazy ambitious, some … wait for it … sesame oil (just a dash). You’ve got yourself an A+ snack. But by no means is avocado toast supposed to be the centerpiece of anything. Ever. We’re not talking guacamole, here, which is a whole other discussion.

[protected-iframe id=”1ff108384735a499b5e9d9d9f9efde9b-84028368-105107678″ info=”//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js” class=”twitter-tweet”]

[protected-iframe id=”4808c03ce0d508100f2fa6371523a47d-84028368-105107678″ info=”//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js” class=”twitter-tweet”]

I don’t know what happened to avocado. It was like the friend in middle school who had cool sleepovers, actually called you during the summer to hang out and didn’t act like he didn’t know you once everyone got to high school. Avocado was cool, and you were glad you knew Avocado. Then, something happened.

Avocado, which now just goes by Cado, did a semester abroad in Prague and suddenly has an English accent for whatever reason. Cado is talking about popping bottles at the club when you’re trying to figure out how to get a free 30-pack out of the guy who works at the beer store. Cado, whom you and your other friends now actually call Avo, has people you don’t even know obsessing about him online, and it’s weird.

But Avocado is still the friend who let you crash at his house when you were too wasted to go home, and his parents didn’t rat you out. Avocado might have let you drive his car when you didn’t have a license. And when Avocado’s date had a friend, you got invited. You couldn’t turn your back on Avocado.

So, fast-forward 15 years and avocado is an argument among people who think it was a luxury item all along. No. Avocado was messy, not for novices and, frankly, kind of bland unless you knew how to dress it up properly. That’s right, it was YOU who taught avocado how to buy clothes when he was still shopping at the Gap in ninth grade. Anyways, it’s all very confusing now.

Then, avocado got married to the mainstream. Places like Chipotle existed solely off its existence, you thought. It was in Subway now, and there was no turning back. Next thing you know, you look up and someone is scolding you about your old friend because you live in an apartment with a roommate instead of a two-story house with a garage. But in the end, you can never really blame avocado.

Why? Because if you were avocado, you would have done the same thing.

Michelle Obama claps back over school lunches

saying Trump administration is not looking out for children’s health

3:42 PMA hilarious convo erupted on the internet Monday afternoon surrounding an interesting food item: avocado toast. It was all sparked by a Time magazine story with the headline “Millionaire to Millennials: Stop Buying Avocado Toast If You Want to Buy a Home.” In short: lol.

The basic premise here is that stupid, shortsighted and pound-foolish millennials are too busy eating quasi-luxury items like avocado toast instead of giving their money to old white men on Wall Street who might decide that they either want to steal it or gamble it away in a Ponzi scheme. Because that’s what we’ve always done, and what with the ChapSnats and the Venmobook ruining The Way We Used To Do Things, the economy is all upside down and everyone is renting microapartments and Ubering to work in the gig economy instead of living like the Jetsons.

To which I say: Whatever.

The more important conversation here is about avocado toast as a luxury item, and where it stands in the food hierarchy. Once one of those things that was best enjoyed as a breakfast life hack in one’s own home for quasi-creatives in the kitchen, it has now moved onto restaurant menus to be enjoyed by brunch monkeys across the nation. Back when I was into this bit, a great life hack if a place had avocado on the menu was to just describe how to make it and ask for it. That typically landed you with a fun, creative dish from a chef who got to branch out without too much effort.

But a $22 avocado toast? That’s insane. For a couple of different reasons. No. 1, avocados just aren’t that good. Cut one open, throw on some sea salt, perhaps, and a dash of hot sauce? Delish. Maybe mix in some bread, a runny egg yolk and, if you want to get crazy ambitious, some … wait for it … sesame oil (just a dash). You’ve got yourself an A+ snack. But by no means is avocado toast supposed to be the centerpiece of anything. Ever. We’re not talking guacamole, here, which is a whole other discussion.

[protected-iframe id=”1ff108384735a499b5e9d9d9f9efde9b-84028368-105107678″ info=”//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js” class=”twitter-tweet”]

[protected-iframe id=”4808c03ce0d508100f2fa6371523a47d-84028368-105107678″ info=”//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js” class=”twitter-tweet”]

I don’t know what happened to avocado. It was like the friend in middle school who had cool sleepovers, actually called you during the summer to hang out and didn’t act like he didn’t know you once everyone got to high school. Avocado was cool, and you were glad you knew Avocado. Then, something happened.

Avocado, which now just goes by Cado, did a semester abroad in Prague and suddenly has an English accent for whatever reason. Cado is talking about popping bottles at the club when you’re trying to figure out how to get a free 30-pack out of the guy who works at the beer store. Cado, whom you and your other friends now actually call Avo, has people you don’t even know obsessing about him online, and it’s weird.

But Avocado is still the friend who let you crash at his house when you were too wasted to go home, and his parents didn’t rat you out. Avocado might have let you drive his car when you didn’t have a license. And when Avocado’s date had a friend, you got invited. You couldn’t turn your back on Avocado.

So, fast-forward 15 years and avocado is an argument among people who think it was a luxury item all along. No. Avocado was messy, not for novices and, frankly, kind of bland unless you knew how to dress it up properly. That’s right, it was YOU who taught avocado how to buy clothes when he was still shopping at the Gap in ninth grade. Anyways, it’s all very confusing now.

Then, avocado got married to the mainstream. Places like Chipotle existed solely off its existence, you thought. It was in Subway now, and there was no turning back. Next thing you know, you look up and someone is scolding you about your old friend because you live in an apartment with a roommate instead of a two-story house with a garage. But in the end, you can never really blame avocado.

Why? Because if you were avocado, you would have done the same thing.

Kendrick Lamar narrates farewell to Paul Pierce

L.A. Clippers release video tribute for NBA legend

3:42 PMA hilarious convo erupted on the internet Monday afternoon surrounding an interesting food item: avocado toast. It was all sparked by a Time magazine story with the headline “Millionaire to Millennials: Stop Buying Avocado Toast If You Want to Buy a Home.” In short: lol.

The basic premise here is that stupid, shortsighted and pound-foolish millennials are too busy eating quasi-luxury items like avocado toast instead of giving their money to old white men on Wall Street who might decide that they either want to steal it or gamble it away in a Ponzi scheme. Because that’s what we’ve always done, and what with the ChapSnats and the Venmobook ruining The Way We Used To Do Things, the economy is all upside down and everyone is renting microapartments and Ubering to work in the gig economy instead of living like the Jetsons.

To which I say: Whatever.

The more important conversation here is about avocado toast as a luxury item, and where it stands in the food hierarchy. Once one of those things that was best enjoyed as a breakfast life hack in one’s own home for quasi-creatives in the kitchen, it has now moved onto restaurant menus to be enjoyed by brunch monkeys across the nation. Back when I was into this bit, a great life hack if a place had avocado on the menu was to just describe how to make it and ask for it. That typically landed you with a fun, creative dish from a chef who got to branch out without too much effort.

But a $22 avocado toast? That’s insane. For a couple of different reasons. No. 1, avocados just aren’t that good. Cut one open, throw on some sea salt, perhaps, and a dash of hot sauce? Delish. Maybe mix in some bread, a runny egg yolk and, if you want to get crazy ambitious, some … wait for it … sesame oil (just a dash). You’ve got yourself an A+ snack. But by no means is avocado toast supposed to be the centerpiece of anything. Ever. We’re not talking guacamole, here, which is a whole other discussion.

[protected-iframe id=”1ff108384735a499b5e9d9d9f9efde9b-84028368-105107678″ info=”//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js” class=”twitter-tweet”]

[protected-iframe id=”4808c03ce0d508100f2fa6371523a47d-84028368-105107678″ info=”//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js” class=”twitter-tweet”]

I don’t know what happened to avocado. It was like the friend in middle school who had cool sleepovers, actually called you during the summer to hang out and didn’t act like he didn’t know you once everyone got to high school. Avocado was cool, and you were glad you knew Avocado. Then, something happened.

Avocado, which now just goes by Cado, did a semester abroad in Prague and suddenly has an English accent for whatever reason. Cado is talking about popping bottles at the club when you’re trying to figure out how to get a free 30-pack out of the guy who works at the beer store. Cado, whom you and your other friends now actually call Avo, has people you don’t even know obsessing about him online, and it’s weird.

But Avocado is still the friend who let you crash at his house when you were too wasted to go home, and his parents didn’t rat you out. Avocado might have let you drive his car when you didn’t have a license. And when Avocado’s date had a friend, you got invited. You couldn’t turn your back on Avocado.

So, fast-forward 15 years and avocado is an argument among people who think it was a luxury item all along. No. Avocado was messy, not for novices and, frankly, kind of bland unless you knew how to dress it up properly. That’s right, it was YOU who taught avocado how to buy clothes when he was still shopping at the Gap in ninth grade. Anyways, it’s all very confusing now.

Then, avocado got married to the mainstream. Places like Chipotle existed solely off its existence, you thought. It was in Subway now, and there was no turning back. Next thing you know, you look up and someone is scolding you about your old friend because you live in an apartment with a roommate instead of a two-story house with a garage. But in the end, you can never really blame avocado.

Why? Because if you were avocado, you would have done the same thing.

Daily Dose: 5/12/17

L.A. Reid moves on from Epic Records

3:42 PMA hilarious convo erupted on the internet Monday afternoon surrounding an interesting food item: avocado toast. It was all sparked by a Time magazine story with the headline “Millionaire to Millennials: Stop Buying Avocado Toast If You Want to Buy a Home.” In short: lol.

The basic premise here is that stupid, shortsighted and pound-foolish millennials are too busy eating quasi-luxury items like avocado toast instead of giving their money to old white men on Wall Street who might decide that they either want to steal it or gamble it away in a Ponzi scheme. Because that’s what we’ve always done, and what with the ChapSnats and the Venmobook ruining The Way We Used To Do Things, the economy is all upside down and everyone is renting microapartments and Ubering to work in the gig economy instead of living like the Jetsons.

To which I say: Whatever.

The more important conversation here is about avocado toast as a luxury item, and where it stands in the food hierarchy. Once one of those things that was best enjoyed as a breakfast life hack in one’s own home for quasi-creatives in the kitchen, it has now moved onto restaurant menus to be enjoyed by brunch monkeys across the nation. Back when I was into this bit, a great life hack if a place had avocado on the menu was to just describe how to make it and ask for it. That typically landed you with a fun, creative dish from a chef who got to branch out without too much effort.

But a $22 avocado toast? That’s insane. For a couple of different reasons. No. 1, avocados just aren’t that good. Cut one open, throw on some sea salt, perhaps, and a dash of hot sauce? Delish. Maybe mix in some bread, a runny egg yolk and, if you want to get crazy ambitious, some … wait for it … sesame oil (just a dash). You’ve got yourself an A+ snack. But by no means is avocado toast supposed to be the centerpiece of anything. Ever. We’re not talking guacamole, here, which is a whole other discussion.

[protected-iframe id=”1ff108384735a499b5e9d9d9f9efde9b-84028368-105107678″ info=”//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js” class=”twitter-tweet”]

[protected-iframe id=”4808c03ce0d508100f2fa6371523a47d-84028368-105107678″ info=”//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js” class=”twitter-tweet”]

I don’t know what happened to avocado. It was like the friend in middle school who had cool sleepovers, actually called you during the summer to hang out and didn’t act like he didn’t know you once everyone got to high school. Avocado was cool, and you were glad you knew Avocado. Then, something happened.

Avocado, which now just goes by Cado, did a semester abroad in Prague and suddenly has an English accent for whatever reason. Cado is talking about popping bottles at the club when you’re trying to figure out how to get a free 30-pack out of the guy who works at the beer store. Cado, whom you and your other friends now actually call Avo, has people you don’t even know obsessing about him online, and it’s weird.

But Avocado is still the friend who let you crash at his house when you were too wasted to go home, and his parents didn’t rat you out. Avocado might have let you drive his car when you didn’t have a license. And when Avocado’s date had a friend, you got invited. You couldn’t turn your back on Avocado.

So, fast-forward 15 years and avocado is an argument among people who think it was a luxury item all along. No. Avocado was messy, not for novices and, frankly, kind of bland unless you knew how to dress it up properly. That’s right, it was YOU who taught avocado how to buy clothes when he was still shopping at the Gap in ninth grade. Anyways, it’s all very confusing now.

Then, avocado got married to the mainstream. Places like Chipotle existed solely off its existence, you thought. It was in Subway now, and there was no turning back. Next thing you know, you look up and someone is scolding you about your old friend because you live in an apartment with a roommate instead of a two-story house with a garage. But in the end, you can never really blame avocado.

Why? Because if you were avocado, you would have done the same thing.

Jay Z, Live Nation ink $200M deal

which means the ‘Forbes’ richest hip-hop artists list needs to change

3:42 PMA hilarious convo erupted on the internet Monday afternoon surrounding an interesting food item: avocado toast. It was all sparked by a Time magazine story with the headline “Millionaire to Millennials: Stop Buying Avocado Toast If You Want to Buy a Home.” In short: lol.

The basic premise here is that stupid, shortsighted and pound-foolish millennials are too busy eating quasi-luxury items like avocado toast instead of giving their money to old white men on Wall Street who might decide that they either want to steal it or gamble it away in a Ponzi scheme. Because that’s what we’ve always done, and what with the ChapSnats and the Venmobook ruining The Way We Used To Do Things, the economy is all upside down and everyone is renting microapartments and Ubering to work in the gig economy instead of living like the Jetsons.

To which I say: Whatever.

The more important conversation here is about avocado toast as a luxury item, and where it stands in the food hierarchy. Once one of those things that was best enjoyed as a breakfast life hack in one’s own home for quasi-creatives in the kitchen, it has now moved onto restaurant menus to be enjoyed by brunch monkeys across the nation. Back when I was into this bit, a great life hack if a place had avocado on the menu was to just describe how to make it and ask for it. That typically landed you with a fun, creative dish from a chef who got to branch out without too much effort.

But a $22 avocado toast? That’s insane. For a couple of different reasons. No. 1, avocados just aren’t that good. Cut one open, throw on some sea salt, perhaps, and a dash of hot sauce? Delish. Maybe mix in some bread, a runny egg yolk and, if you want to get crazy ambitious, some … wait for it … sesame oil (just a dash). You’ve got yourself an A+ snack. But by no means is avocado toast supposed to be the centerpiece of anything. Ever. We’re not talking guacamole, here, which is a whole other discussion.

[protected-iframe id=”1ff108384735a499b5e9d9d9f9efde9b-84028368-105107678″ info=”//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js” class=”twitter-tweet”]

[protected-iframe id=”4808c03ce0d508100f2fa6371523a47d-84028368-105107678″ info=”//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js” class=”twitter-tweet”]

I don’t know what happened to avocado. It was like the friend in middle school who had cool sleepovers, actually called you during the summer to hang out and didn’t act like he didn’t know you once everyone got to high school. Avocado was cool, and you were glad you knew Avocado. Then, something happened.

Avocado, which now just goes by Cado, did a semester abroad in Prague and suddenly has an English accent for whatever reason. Cado is talking about popping bottles at the club when you’re trying to figure out how to get a free 30-pack out of the guy who works at the beer store. Cado, whom you and your other friends now actually call Avo, has people you don’t even know obsessing about him online, and it’s weird.

But Avocado is still the friend who let you crash at his house when you were too wasted to go home, and his parents didn’t rat you out. Avocado might have let you drive his car when you didn’t have a license. And when Avocado’s date had a friend, you got invited. You couldn’t turn your back on Avocado.

So, fast-forward 15 years and avocado is an argument among people who think it was a luxury item all along. No. Avocado was messy, not for novices and, frankly, kind of bland unless you knew how to dress it up properly. That’s right, it was YOU who taught avocado how to buy clothes when he was still shopping at the Gap in ninth grade. Anyways, it’s all very confusing now.

Then, avocado got married to the mainstream. Places like Chipotle existed solely off its existence, you thought. It was in Subway now, and there was no turning back. Next thing you know, you look up and someone is scolding you about your old friend because you live in an apartment with a roommate instead of a two-story house with a garage. But in the end, you can never really blame avocado.

Why? Because if you were avocado, you would have done the same thing.

Quavo is going full-time solo

if his latest clues are any indication, it’s just a matter of time

3:42 PMA hilarious convo erupted on the internet Monday afternoon surrounding an interesting food item: avocado toast. It was all sparked by a Time magazine story with the headline “Millionaire to Millennials: Stop Buying Avocado Toast If You Want to Buy a Home.” In short: lol.

The basic premise here is that stupid, shortsighted and pound-foolish millennials are too busy eating quasi-luxury items like avocado toast instead of giving their money to old white men on Wall Street who might decide that they either want to steal it or gamble it away in a Ponzi scheme. Because that’s what we’ve always done, and what with the ChapSnats and the Venmobook ruining The Way We Used To Do Things, the economy is all upside down and everyone is renting microapartments and Ubering to work in the gig economy instead of living like the Jetsons.

To which I say: Whatever.

The more important conversation here is about avocado toast as a luxury item, and where it stands in the food hierarchy. Once one of those things that was best enjoyed as a breakfast life hack in one’s own home for quasi-creatives in the kitchen, it has now moved onto restaurant menus to be enjoyed by brunch monkeys across the nation. Back when I was into this bit, a great life hack if a place had avocado on the menu was to just describe how to make it and ask for it. That typically landed you with a fun, creative dish from a chef who got to branch out without too much effort.

But a $22 avocado toast? That’s insane. For a couple of different reasons. No. 1, avocados just aren’t that good. Cut one open, throw on some sea salt, perhaps, and a dash of hot sauce? Delish. Maybe mix in some bread, a runny egg yolk and, if you want to get crazy ambitious, some … wait for it … sesame oil (just a dash). You’ve got yourself an A+ snack. But by no means is avocado toast supposed to be the centerpiece of anything. Ever. We’re not talking guacamole, here, which is a whole other discussion.

[protected-iframe id=”1ff108384735a499b5e9d9d9f9efde9b-84028368-105107678″ info=”//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js” class=”twitter-tweet”]

[protected-iframe id=”4808c03ce0d508100f2fa6371523a47d-84028368-105107678″ info=”//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js” class=”twitter-tweet”]

I don’t know what happened to avocado. It was like the friend in middle school who had cool sleepovers, actually called you during the summer to hang out and didn’t act like he didn’t know you once everyone got to high school. Avocado was cool, and you were glad you knew Avocado. Then, something happened.

Avocado, which now just goes by Cado, did a semester abroad in Prague and suddenly has an English accent for whatever reason. Cado is talking about popping bottles at the club when you’re trying to figure out how to get a free 30-pack out of the guy who works at the beer store. Cado, whom you and your other friends now actually call Avo, has people you don’t even know obsessing about him online, and it’s weird.

But Avocado is still the friend who let you crash at his house when you were too wasted to go home, and his parents didn’t rat you out. Avocado might have let you drive his car when you didn’t have a license. And when Avocado’s date had a friend, you got invited. You couldn’t turn your back on Avocado.

So, fast-forward 15 years and avocado is an argument among people who think it was a luxury item all along. No. Avocado was messy, not for novices and, frankly, kind of bland unless you knew how to dress it up properly. That’s right, it was YOU who taught avocado how to buy clothes when he was still shopping at the Gap in ninth grade. Anyways, it’s all very confusing now.

Then, avocado got married to the mainstream. Places like Chipotle existed solely off its existence, you thought. It was in Subway now, and there was no turning back. Next thing you know, you look up and someone is scolding you about your old friend because you live in an apartment with a roommate instead of a two-story house with a garage. But in the end, you can never really blame avocado.

Why? Because if you were avocado, you would have done the same thing.

White police officer sues city for discrimination

after finding out he had 18 percent African heritage and getting ridiculed for it

3:42 PMA hilarious convo erupted on the internet Monday afternoon surrounding an interesting food item: avocado toast. It was all sparked by a Time magazine story with the headline “Millionaire to Millennials: Stop Buying Avocado Toast If You Want to Buy a Home.” In short: lol.

The basic premise here is that stupid, shortsighted and pound-foolish millennials are too busy eating quasi-luxury items like avocado toast instead of giving their money to old white men on Wall Street who might decide that they either want to steal it or gamble it away in a Ponzi scheme. Because that’s what we’ve always done, and what with the ChapSnats and the Venmobook ruining The Way We Used To Do Things, the economy is all upside down and everyone is renting microapartments and Ubering to work in the gig economy instead of living like the Jetsons.

To which I say: Whatever.

The more important conversation here is about avocado toast as a luxury item, and where it stands in the food hierarchy. Once one of those things that was best enjoyed as a breakfast life hack in one’s own home for quasi-creatives in the kitchen, it has now moved onto restaurant menus to be enjoyed by brunch monkeys across the nation. Back when I was into this bit, a great life hack if a place had avocado on the menu was to just describe how to make it and ask for it. That typically landed you with a fun, creative dish from a chef who got to branch out without too much effort.

But a $22 avocado toast? That’s insane. For a couple of different reasons. No. 1, avocados just aren’t that good. Cut one open, throw on some sea salt, perhaps, and a dash of hot sauce? Delish. Maybe mix in some bread, a runny egg yolk and, if you want to get crazy ambitious, some … wait for it … sesame oil (just a dash). You’ve got yourself an A+ snack. But by no means is avocado toast supposed to be the centerpiece of anything. Ever. We’re not talking guacamole, here, which is a whole other discussion.

[protected-iframe id=”1ff108384735a499b5e9d9d9f9efde9b-84028368-105107678″ info=”//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js” class=”twitter-tweet”]

[protected-iframe id=”4808c03ce0d508100f2fa6371523a47d-84028368-105107678″ info=”//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js” class=”twitter-tweet”]

I don’t know what happened to avocado. It was like the friend in middle school who had cool sleepovers, actually called you during the summer to hang out and didn’t act like he didn’t know you once everyone got to high school. Avocado was cool, and you were glad you knew Avocado. Then, something happened.

Avocado, which now just goes by Cado, did a semester abroad in Prague and suddenly has an English accent for whatever reason. Cado is talking about popping bottles at the club when you’re trying to figure out how to get a free 30-pack out of the guy who works at the beer store. Cado, whom you and your other friends now actually call Avo, has people you don’t even know obsessing about him online, and it’s weird.

But Avocado is still the friend who let you crash at his house when you were too wasted to go home, and his parents didn’t rat you out. Avocado might have let you drive his car when you didn’t have a license. And when Avocado’s date had a friend, you got invited. You couldn’t turn your back on Avocado.

So, fast-forward 15 years and avocado is an argument among people who think it was a luxury item all along. No. Avocado was messy, not for novices and, frankly, kind of bland unless you knew how to dress it up properly. That’s right, it was YOU who taught avocado how to buy clothes when he was still shopping at the Gap in ninth grade. Anyways, it’s all very confusing now.

Then, avocado got married to the mainstream. Places like Chipotle existed solely off its existence, you thought. It was in Subway now, and there was no turning back. Next thing you know, you look up and someone is scolding you about your old friend because you live in an apartment with a roommate instead of a two-story house with a garage. But in the end, you can never really blame avocado.

Why? Because if you were avocado, you would have done the same thing.

Daily Dose: 5/11/17

Steve Harvey does not have time for your nonsense

3:42 PMA hilarious convo erupted on the internet Monday afternoon surrounding an interesting food item: avocado toast. It was all sparked by a Time magazine story with the headline “Millionaire to Millennials: Stop Buying Avocado Toast If You Want to Buy a Home.” In short: lol.

The basic premise here is that stupid, shortsighted and pound-foolish millennials are too busy eating quasi-luxury items like avocado toast instead of giving their money to old white men on Wall Street who might decide that they either want to steal it or gamble it away in a Ponzi scheme. Because that’s what we’ve always done, and what with the ChapSnats and the Venmobook ruining The Way We Used To Do Things, the economy is all upside down and everyone is renting microapartments and Ubering to work in the gig economy instead of living like the Jetsons.

To which I say: Whatever.

The more important conversation here is about avocado toast as a luxury item, and where it stands in the food hierarchy. Once one of those things that was best enjoyed as a breakfast life hack in one’s own home for quasi-creatives in the kitchen, it has now moved onto restaurant menus to be enjoyed by brunch monkeys across the nation. Back when I was into this bit, a great life hack if a place had avocado on the menu was to just describe how to make it and ask for it. That typically landed you with a fun, creative dish from a chef who got to branch out without too much effort.

But a $22 avocado toast? That’s insane. For a couple of different reasons. No. 1, avocados just aren’t that good. Cut one open, throw on some sea salt, perhaps, and a dash of hot sauce? Delish. Maybe mix in some bread, a runny egg yolk and, if you want to get crazy ambitious, some … wait for it … sesame oil (just a dash). You’ve got yourself an A+ snack. But by no means is avocado toast supposed to be the centerpiece of anything. Ever. We’re not talking guacamole, here, which is a whole other discussion.

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I don’t know what happened to avocado. It was like the friend in middle school who had cool sleepovers, actually called you during the summer to hang out and didn’t act like he didn’t know you once everyone got to high school. Avocado was cool, and you were glad you knew Avocado. Then, something happened.

Avocado, which now just goes by Cado, did a semester abroad in Prague and suddenly has an English accent for whatever reason. Cado is talking about popping bottles at the club when you’re trying to figure out how to get a free 30-pack out of the guy who works at the beer store. Cado, whom you and your other friends now actually call Avo, has people you don’t even know obsessing about him online, and it’s weird.

But Avocado is still the friend who let you crash at his house when you were too wasted to go home, and his parents didn’t rat you out. Avocado might have let you drive his car when you didn’t have a license. And when Avocado’s date had a friend, you got invited. You couldn’t turn your back on Avocado.

So, fast-forward 15 years and avocado is an argument among people who think it was a luxury item all along. No. Avocado was messy, not for novices and, frankly, kind of bland unless you knew how to dress it up properly. That’s right, it was YOU who taught avocado how to buy clothes when he was still shopping at the Gap in ninth grade. Anyways, it’s all very confusing now.

Then, avocado got married to the mainstream. Places like Chipotle existed solely off its existence, you thought. It was in Subway now, and there was no turning back. Next thing you know, you look up and someone is scolding you about your old friend because you live in an apartment with a roommate instead of a two-story house with a garage. But in the end, you can never really blame avocado.

Why? Because if you were avocado, you would have done the same thing.

Dwayne Johnson should not run for president

Donald Trump already ruined it for him

3:42 PMA hilarious convo erupted on the internet Monday afternoon surrounding an interesting food item: avocado toast. It was all sparked by a Time magazine story with the headline “Millionaire to Millennials: Stop Buying Avocado Toast If You Want to Buy a Home.” In short: lol.

The basic premise here is that stupid, shortsighted and pound-foolish millennials are too busy eating quasi-luxury items like avocado toast instead of giving their money to old white men on Wall Street who might decide that they either want to steal it or gamble it away in a Ponzi scheme. Because that’s what we’ve always done, and what with the ChapSnats and the Venmobook ruining The Way We Used To Do Things, the economy is all upside down and everyone is renting microapartments and Ubering to work in the gig economy instead of living like the Jetsons.

To which I say: Whatever.

The more important conversation here is about avocado toast as a luxury item, and where it stands in the food hierarchy. Once one of those things that was best enjoyed as a breakfast life hack in one’s own home for quasi-creatives in the kitchen, it has now moved onto restaurant menus to be enjoyed by brunch monkeys across the nation. Back when I was into this bit, a great life hack if a place had avocado on the menu was to just describe how to make it and ask for it. That typically landed you with a fun, creative dish from a chef who got to branch out without too much effort.

But a $22 avocado toast? That’s insane. For a couple of different reasons. No. 1, avocados just aren’t that good. Cut one open, throw on some sea salt, perhaps, and a dash of hot sauce? Delish. Maybe mix in some bread, a runny egg yolk and, if you want to get crazy ambitious, some … wait for it … sesame oil (just a dash). You’ve got yourself an A+ snack. But by no means is avocado toast supposed to be the centerpiece of anything. Ever. We’re not talking guacamole, here, which is a whole other discussion.

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[protected-iframe id=”4808c03ce0d508100f2fa6371523a47d-84028368-105107678″ info=”//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js” class=”twitter-tweet”]

I don’t know what happened to avocado. It was like the friend in middle school who had cool sleepovers, actually called you during the summer to hang out and didn’t act like he didn’t know you once everyone got to high school. Avocado was cool, and you were glad you knew Avocado. Then, something happened.

Avocado, which now just goes by Cado, did a semester abroad in Prague and suddenly has an English accent for whatever reason. Cado is talking about popping bottles at the club when you’re trying to figure out how to get a free 30-pack out of the guy who works at the beer store. Cado, whom you and your other friends now actually call Avo, has people you don’t even know obsessing about him online, and it’s weird.

But Avocado is still the friend who let you crash at his house when you were too wasted to go home, and his parents didn’t rat you out. Avocado might have let you drive his car when you didn’t have a license. And when Avocado’s date had a friend, you got invited. You couldn’t turn your back on Avocado.

So, fast-forward 15 years and avocado is an argument among people who think it was a luxury item all along. No. Avocado was messy, not for novices and, frankly, kind of bland unless you knew how to dress it up properly. That’s right, it was YOU who taught avocado how to buy clothes when he was still shopping at the Gap in ninth grade. Anyways, it’s all very confusing now.

Then, avocado got married to the mainstream. Places like Chipotle existed solely off its existence, you thought. It was in Subway now, and there was no turning back. Next thing you know, you look up and someone is scolding you about your old friend because you live in an apartment with a roommate instead of a two-story house with a garage. But in the end, you can never really blame avocado.

Why? Because if you were avocado, you would have done the same thing.

Jodeci is still doing the most

Their VH1 ‘Dear Mama’ performance was eventful, to say the least

3:42 PMA hilarious convo erupted on the internet Monday afternoon surrounding an interesting food item: avocado toast. It was all sparked by a Time magazine story with the headline “Millionaire to Millennials: Stop Buying Avocado Toast If You Want to Buy a Home.” In short: lol.

The basic premise here is that stupid, shortsighted and pound-foolish millennials are too busy eating quasi-luxury items like avocado toast instead of giving their money to old white men on Wall Street who might decide that they either want to steal it or gamble it away in a Ponzi scheme. Because that’s what we’ve always done, and what with the ChapSnats and the Venmobook ruining The Way We Used To Do Things, the economy is all upside down and everyone is renting microapartments and Ubering to work in the gig economy instead of living like the Jetsons.

To which I say: Whatever.

The more important conversation here is about avocado toast as a luxury item, and where it stands in the food hierarchy. Once one of those things that was best enjoyed as a breakfast life hack in one’s own home for quasi-creatives in the kitchen, it has now moved onto restaurant menus to be enjoyed by brunch monkeys across the nation. Back when I was into this bit, a great life hack if a place had avocado on the menu was to just describe how to make it and ask for it. That typically landed you with a fun, creative dish from a chef who got to branch out without too much effort.

But a $22 avocado toast? That’s insane. For a couple of different reasons. No. 1, avocados just aren’t that good. Cut one open, throw on some sea salt, perhaps, and a dash of hot sauce? Delish. Maybe mix in some bread, a runny egg yolk and, if you want to get crazy ambitious, some … wait for it … sesame oil (just a dash). You’ve got yourself an A+ snack. But by no means is avocado toast supposed to be the centerpiece of anything. Ever. We’re not talking guacamole, here, which is a whole other discussion.

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[protected-iframe id=”4808c03ce0d508100f2fa6371523a47d-84028368-105107678″ info=”//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js” class=”twitter-tweet”]

I don’t know what happened to avocado. It was like the friend in middle school who had cool sleepovers, actually called you during the summer to hang out and didn’t act like he didn’t know you once everyone got to high school. Avocado was cool, and you were glad you knew Avocado. Then, something happened.

Avocado, which now just goes by Cado, did a semester abroad in Prague and suddenly has an English accent for whatever reason. Cado is talking about popping bottles at the club when you’re trying to figure out how to get a free 30-pack out of the guy who works at the beer store. Cado, whom you and your other friends now actually call Avo, has people you don’t even know obsessing about him online, and it’s weird.

But Avocado is still the friend who let you crash at his house when you were too wasted to go home, and his parents didn’t rat you out. Avocado might have let you drive his car when you didn’t have a license. And when Avocado’s date had a friend, you got invited. You couldn’t turn your back on Avocado.

So, fast-forward 15 years and avocado is an argument among people who think it was a luxury item all along. No. Avocado was messy, not for novices and, frankly, kind of bland unless you knew how to dress it up properly. That’s right, it was YOU who taught avocado how to buy clothes when he was still shopping at the Gap in ninth grade. Anyways, it’s all very confusing now.

Then, avocado got married to the mainstream. Places like Chipotle existed solely off its existence, you thought. It was in Subway now, and there was no turning back. Next thing you know, you look up and someone is scolding you about your old friend because you live in an apartment with a roommate instead of a two-story house with a garage. But in the end, you can never really blame avocado.

Why? Because if you were avocado, you would have done the same thing.

Betsy DeVos’ commencement speech at Bethune-Cookman University did not go well

Protests and boos mar secretary of education’s HBCU appearance

3:42 PMA hilarious convo erupted on the internet Monday afternoon surrounding an interesting food item: avocado toast. It was all sparked by a Time magazine story with the headline “Millionaire to Millennials: Stop Buying Avocado Toast If You Want to Buy a Home.” In short: lol.

The basic premise here is that stupid, shortsighted and pound-foolish millennials are too busy eating quasi-luxury items like avocado toast instead of giving their money to old white men on Wall Street who might decide that they either want to steal it or gamble it away in a Ponzi scheme. Because that’s what we’ve always done, and what with the ChapSnats and the Venmobook ruining The Way We Used To Do Things, the economy is all upside down and everyone is renting microapartments and Ubering to work in the gig economy instead of living like the Jetsons.

To which I say: Whatever.

The more important conversation here is about avocado toast as a luxury item, and where it stands in the food hierarchy. Once one of those things that was best enjoyed as a breakfast life hack in one’s own home for quasi-creatives in the kitchen, it has now moved onto restaurant menus to be enjoyed by brunch monkeys across the nation. Back when I was into this bit, a great life hack if a place had avocado on the menu was to just describe how to make it and ask for it. That typically landed you with a fun, creative dish from a chef who got to branch out without too much effort.

But a $22 avocado toast? That’s insane. For a couple of different reasons. No. 1, avocados just aren’t that good. Cut one open, throw on some sea salt, perhaps, and a dash of hot sauce? Delish. Maybe mix in some bread, a runny egg yolk and, if you want to get crazy ambitious, some … wait for it … sesame oil (just a dash). You’ve got yourself an A+ snack. But by no means is avocado toast supposed to be the centerpiece of anything. Ever. We’re not talking guacamole, here, which is a whole other discussion.

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[protected-iframe id=”4808c03ce0d508100f2fa6371523a47d-84028368-105107678″ info=”//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js” class=”twitter-tweet”]

I don’t know what happened to avocado. It was like the friend in middle school who had cool sleepovers, actually called you during the summer to hang out and didn’t act like he didn’t know you once everyone got to high school. Avocado was cool, and you were glad you knew Avocado. Then, something happened.

Avocado, which now just goes by Cado, did a semester abroad in Prague and suddenly has an English accent for whatever reason. Cado is talking about popping bottles at the club when you’re trying to figure out how to get a free 30-pack out of the guy who works at the beer store. Cado, whom you and your other friends now actually call Avo, has people you don’t even know obsessing about him online, and it’s weird.

But Avocado is still the friend who let you crash at his house when you were too wasted to go home, and his parents didn’t rat you out. Avocado might have let you drive his car when you didn’t have a license. And when Avocado’s date had a friend, you got invited. You couldn’t turn your back on Avocado.

So, fast-forward 15 years and avocado is an argument among people who think it was a luxury item all along. No. Avocado was messy, not for novices and, frankly, kind of bland unless you knew how to dress it up properly. That’s right, it was YOU who taught avocado how to buy clothes when he was still shopping at the Gap in ninth grade. Anyways, it’s all very confusing now.

Then, avocado got married to the mainstream. Places like Chipotle existed solely off its existence, you thought. It was in Subway now, and there was no turning back. Next thing you know, you look up and someone is scolding you about your old friend because you live in an apartment with a roommate instead of a two-story house with a garage. But in the end, you can never really blame avocado.

Why? Because if you were avocado, you would have done the same thing.

Daily Dose: 5/10/17

The nation’s capital has a lot going on

3:42 PMA hilarious convo erupted on the internet Monday afternoon surrounding an interesting food item: avocado toast. It was all sparked by a Time magazine story with the headline “Millionaire to Millennials: Stop Buying Avocado Toast If You Want to Buy a Home.” In short: lol.

The basic premise here is that stupid, shortsighted and pound-foolish millennials are too busy eating quasi-luxury items like avocado toast instead of giving their money to old white men on Wall Street who might decide that they either want to steal it or gamble it away in a Ponzi scheme. Because that’s what we’ve always done, and what with the ChapSnats and the Venmobook ruining The Way We Used To Do Things, the economy is all upside down and everyone is renting microapartments and Ubering to work in the gig economy instead of living like the Jetsons.

To which I say: Whatever.

The more important conversation here is about avocado toast as a luxury item, and where it stands in the food hierarchy. Once one of those things that was best enjoyed as a breakfast life hack in one’s own home for quasi-creatives in the kitchen, it has now moved onto restaurant menus to be enjoyed by brunch monkeys across the nation. Back when I was into this bit, a great life hack if a place had avocado on the menu was to just describe how to make it and ask for it. That typically landed you with a fun, creative dish from a chef who got to branch out without too much effort.

But a $22 avocado toast? That’s insane. For a couple of different reasons. No. 1, avocados just aren’t that good. Cut one open, throw on some sea salt, perhaps, and a dash of hot sauce? Delish. Maybe mix in some bread, a runny egg yolk and, if you want to get crazy ambitious, some … wait for it … sesame oil (just a dash). You’ve got yourself an A+ snack. But by no means is avocado toast supposed to be the centerpiece of anything. Ever. We’re not talking guacamole, here, which is a whole other discussion.

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[protected-iframe id=”4808c03ce0d508100f2fa6371523a47d-84028368-105107678″ info=”//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js” class=”twitter-tweet”]

I don’t know what happened to avocado. It was like the friend in middle school who had cool sleepovers, actually called you during the summer to hang out and didn’t act like he didn’t know you once everyone got to high school. Avocado was cool, and you were glad you knew Avocado. Then, something happened.

Avocado, which now just goes by Cado, did a semester abroad in Prague and suddenly has an English accent for whatever reason. Cado is talking about popping bottles at the club when you’re trying to figure out how to get a free 30-pack out of the guy who works at the beer store. Cado, whom you and your other friends now actually call Avo, has people you don’t even know obsessing about him online, and it’s weird.

But Avocado is still the friend who let you crash at his house when you were too wasted to go home, and his parents didn’t rat you out. Avocado might have let you drive his car when you didn’t have a license. And when Avocado’s date had a friend, you got invited. You couldn’t turn your back on Avocado.

So, fast-forward 15 years and avocado is an argument among people who think it was a luxury item all along. No. Avocado was messy, not for novices and, frankly, kind of bland unless you knew how to dress it up properly. That’s right, it was YOU who taught avocado how to buy clothes when he was still shopping at the Gap in ninth grade. Anyways, it’s all very confusing now.

Then, avocado got married to the mainstream. Places like Chipotle existed solely off its existence, you thought. It was in Subway now, and there was no turning back. Next thing you know, you look up and someone is scolding you about your old friend because you live in an apartment with a roommate instead of a two-story house with a garage. But in the end, you can never really blame avocado.

Why? Because if you were avocado, you would have done the same thing.