David at Sketches of Strain said he was
underwhelmed by the amount of email he was(n't) getting. He begged for a little inbox love, even if it was something as banal as a grocery list.
You know I love it when they beg.
So I sent him my imaginary grocery list.
Now, on that list was the tasty item "pickled eggs". David replied that pickled eggs grossed him out, which is fine, to each his own and more for me. But that just put it into my head that I HAD to have some pickled eggs. For dinner. Along with the bleu cheese, crackers, veggie medley sour pickles and beer that I'd already planned on.
Quick explanation of why I eat like a capuchin monkey on crack: About once a week, the GM1 has duty, which means he is out for the night and dinner plans are extremely flexible. I usually scrabble together a plate of all the tasty morsels I don't eat when he's around because he makes that face. You know that face.
You made it when I said bleu cheese and pickled eggs.
Those of you with any grasp of basic body chemistry know what's coming next. It's not pretty. You might want to close your eyes before you continue reading.
Okay, yeah, I know, that's a little difficult. Give me points for warning you anyway.
I am spontaneous combustion waiting to happen. I am one big puffy beachball of toxic gas. I am a danger to myself and others. And I'm reasonably sure I am going to have to burn everything in the apartment. Febreze just ain't gonna cut it.
I know, I know, it's my own damn fault.... but oh my stars, it was GOOD eatin'.
Gotta go, I think the EPA is at the door.
Posted by LeeAnn at August 28, 2003 03:17 PM