I don't like to stereotype, but...

I came home today to discover a box of Chunky soup sitting by our front door, roughly 20 cans worth of mixed variety.

Note: nobody in my household eats/drinks Chunky soup. I make soup maybe once every six months in an act of desperation should there be no other food options available; my parents probably even less. 20 cans may not sound like a lot to people who actually eat this stuff, but in my house it's about on par with discovering a flock of parrots in your living room.

My dad literally came running down the hall when he heard me come in.

"You hungry? Want some soup?" he asked with strange enthusiasm.
"Not really..." although at this point, the obvious question had to be asked. "Where did all this soup come from?"
"It was a such a good deal. One dollar a can."
"Who's going to eat all this soup?"
"I don't know. But look, there are different types"
"OK... you know, I don't think we're ever going to eat all this"
"What does [insert mangled English pronunciation of minestrone] mean?"

As an added bonus, last week he came home with a family-sized pack of life-savers candy. Who eats life-savers anymore? We were literally giving them away to various house visitors, and we mostly forced them onto people against their consent.

Our pantry is a veritable treasure trove of bargain-bin foods that will never see the light of day.

I was going to write a post with more gravitas, but now it seems dour of me. Perhaps tomorrow.