Nutella, Vegemite and Fate

Which would YOU choose?

If you told me ten years ago that I’d marry an Aussie,
I’d think you’d been smoking chewing gum wrappers.

Where the hell would I find an Australian?
Where does anyone in Southern California find an Australian?

Work. Where else?

It baffles me, even today, how we got to talking in the first place.
But, once we did, there was no silencing us.
All we talked about was food.
I brought English muffins, Shawn brought crumpets.
We had our own toaster, cutlery, various jams, cookies, candies.
What started as an mere Show-and-Tell of favourite foods
soon resulted in a marketplace of  foodie must-haves atop a boring cubicle desk.

Then one day, things got very serious.
I brought Nutella and Shawn brought Vegemite.
Eager for him to experience the full effect, I made a generous Nutella sandwich for Shawn that tested the anti-gravitational strength of bread.

I was then offered the golden jar of Vegemite.
Just as I was about to slap a hefty spoonful of that dark, glossy paste onto my English muffin, I heard “Noooooooooo, wait! Not that much!“
I looked up and Shawn’s face was white with panic.
Then I thought, “Wow, this guy is really cheap.”

Then I tasted it.
I can’t say with scientific certainty, but I’m willing to guess that asphalt tar tastes better.

Vegemite is a powerful source of vitamin B
and a byproduct of the beer-making process.
It’s mother’s milk to Australians.
It has to be. Why else would they eat the stuff?