Trash Talking

The other night I was collecting the trash around the apartment and I had a strange thought, "What would someone determine about me if they went through my trash?" I know, strange thought, but you know, what's the first thing detectives do on TV when they can't find their suspect? Yep, they go through the trash. And then all of the sudden, they find receipts for plane tickets, lab results for matching DNAs and pieces of bomb kits. Within 30 minutes their suspect goes from a "person of interest" to the perpetrator who blew his brother's house up and is now flying to South America. Folks, it's all in the trash.

So, here's what I deduced from my own trash. One, I'm not a cook. If anything, based on my trash, I eat a ridiculous amount of cereal, pizzas from Trader Joes and not a trace of vegetables or fruit. Two, again, based on my personal waste, I hate Greenpeace and anything associated with it. How do I know this? Well, because inevitably, each round of trash includes at least four Greenpeace reminders, six Save The Whales pamphlets and two Starving Children contribution notices that are all torn up and shoved in an empty cereal box. And three, if I was sifting through my own trash, I would conclude that a person living at my house has a terrible drug problem, due to the used syringes*, but is not completely out of control because of the inordinate pieces of used floss. (I think this last one would have really stumped NCIS.)

So, let's review what my trash has told us: I'm a poorly fed, drug abuser, who hates people or things less fortunate then myself, but makes time to maintain good oral hygiene. I think that sums it up.
So, what does your trash say? And more importantly, why is your trash talking?

* For baby making