Pavlov's bitch: An ode to sea salt and vinegar Kettle Chips

I hated the giant seminar class in college.

All the talk about behavioral psychology coming towards our slumped figures wedged into auditorium seats – mice made to do this; people made to do that. No, I'd think, you're leaving something out. This isn't the whole story.

And of course it wasn't. I didn't have to know what the “else” was to know it most certainly was. It would happen over and over again in my life, people presenting “the” way while I shuffled to the left trying to see what else was hidden behind their backs.

“People work in offices 9-5.” Freelancing from your living room? “Educational research requires statistically significant results and empirical evidence.” What's an ethnographic case study?

Lies of omission.

But still, here I am, PMS Diva. Just the thought of turning down the chip aisle sends my saliva glands going. Then, when I see the bag, I am all animal and remembered patterns.

It's science like they kind they sell in undergrad seminars, food like the kind they sell at the 7-11 down the block from your dorm at 2 a.m. while you're studying for your midterm on Skinner.

And I'm okay with that. It means at least something I learned stuck.