Oh my darling clementine

Who doesn't love orange juice. Sure there will always be disputes over pulp content or brand preference (Topicana is the only one I'll recognize), but everyone can still agree that OJ makes the world go 'round. Or at least makes you hate your day a little less. It is simply amazing.

As a complement (not to be confused with supplement) to our routine gallon jug of Tropicana, the best orange juice on the face of the planet, we purchased some clementines. Because they're delicious too. I couldn't wait til this morning when I would have the oppurtunity to enjoy one of these suckers for breakfast.

So I'm walking down the sidewalk, engaging in the most serious of discussions with Matthew, when I put a peice clementine in the mouth. I brace myself for the overwhelmingly euphoric taste of the fruit segment detenating inside my mouth like a tiny, delectable little bomb. What followed was nothing short of total disappointment. "UGGHH", I spit it out. I was thoroughly disgusted. It was the worst peice of fruit in a long time. But I had a lot of questions.

Was it bad?

Is this catastrophe limited to just this one clementine, or is the entire box destined for bottom of the trash can?

Should I spend more time scraping some more of the awful white stuff off?

Why did this particular clementine contain so many seeds?

Was this even a real peice of fruit at all?

I tossed it into the bushes. Ok, so I took out my rage on it and fired it as hard as I could into the nearby chainlink fence. I felt only slightly better. Matthew and I continued on, despite the lingering taste in my mouth. Walking only a few hundred feet away, it hit me. I realized what had caused me to judge that poor clementine so brutally.

I had brushed my teeth just moments before walking out the door.

My hands do still smell delicious though...