Food Seems to be all that is on Tufts Croquet Club's Collective Mind. What Fatties.

For this, my first post, I will be exploring a subject near and dear to my heart. Although many other issues of great social, political, and Tuftonial importance will be discussed, I hope to return to and continually explore this topic throughout the duration of my blogging. Without further hesitation, rumination, reiteration, alliteration, or obfuscation, I present:

WHAT'S IN BEN'S STOMACH?













Primarily, it would probably be spaghetti and meatballs at the moment. Indeed this was my rather late dinner. Additionally, this would be accompanied by a splattering of sauce (both Five Cheese and Tomato Basil). The meatballs were made by my own two hands, and while I cannot claim to have created the pasta or sauce, I did select them from myriad choices at the grocery.

Moving on, the meal was later washed down with the most appropriate of liquids available.












Yes orange juice is the pinnacle of class when it comes to drinking, and Tropicana is the pinnacle of orange juices. (Except of course
Dole, , but one can't have everything). I would have preferred pulped orange juice, though, but beggars can't be choosers, and more importantly, Anisha did the shopping this week.

Now one might expect my appetite to be satiated following such a large course of carbs and protein, but this is not at all the case. Said meal was followed shortly thereafter by the crisp cracking of an apple and the delectable crunch of chocolate covered pretzels.

After this veritable feast, I would have checked my ingestion; I am but a man however, a man who was raised on milk, and who am I to deny milk's favorite cookie. Thus, the icing on the cake of my consumption was actually the icing of an Oreo cookie.
Finally my stomach was filled, my eyelids were heavy, and my belt was loosened. And for now, that is all that is in Ben's stomach.