I recognize that there is good coffee and superior coffee, I just don't think I can taste the difference unless you give me extremes like folger's instant vs. hand crushed virgin organic coffee grown in the magical forest of coffeedom and brewed with the tears of the gods. There's not a lot of things I wouldn't do to service my caffeine addiction, but I think I can safely say that having someone's decapitated head floating in my coffee would at least make me ask for extra sugar.
I think I just got my Christmas miracle last night. I opened a cabinet to check for sundry baking needs (translation: salt), not noticing the full bottle of wine sitting on the counter. The bottle fell to the floor without a) shattering or b) breaking my foot. I figure I can no longer wish for a pony or world peace at this point....Speaking of which, I want a set of wine charms. I think they're dreadfully cute. But, I kind of figure that if you can't keep track of your glass, you're too drunk to care about the cooties.
You know, I get all out of balance if I have a drink in one hand and I don't have a cigarette in the
other. Been known to fall over and spill my drink. The cure for that? Two drinks.
shades whiter and my skin should suddenly glow the dewy glow of a baby's ass.
Tony Little, Susan Powder, The JuiceMan and young Richard Simmons are enough proof for me that zero body fat is dangerous and your metabolism starts going after your plumper brain cells in desperation.
I have a bunch of vegetarian friends who all agree that the greatest temptation to those who are not actively sickened by meat, is the smell/ sound of bacon fryin' up in a pan. Because, really, what's better than bacon?
Yes? You, in the back?
That's correct, more bacon.
Ah, liqueur chocolates. Two sins at once. If they were only penis-shaped, it would be three.
I'm afraid "too many French fries" is as meaningless a phrase to me as "too many naked Orlando Blooms."
Anybody want a pound of tomatoes? For some reason my roommate bought it when grocery shopping, even though she hates it and I'm allergic to it and it wasn't even accidentally on the list or on sale. I'm thinking I'll see if a local food kitchen will take it, or I'm just going to end up having to find something to chuck it at. (And when asked why she bought it, she answered, "I don't know. I could have stole a car. Instead, I bought tomatoes.")
In conclusion, you can be wild and crazy and mutilate your body so that you resemble the Loch Ness Monster, down to forked tongue, and I'm convinced that eventually people tire of talking about it, but people never tire of talking about the little things, like picky eating. Even people I've known my entire life are still shocked by my eating habits. (Look, I'm 23, and I've finally accepted that if I'm going to eat spinich, it has to have cheese on it. Or a $100 bill.)
I think it is a good time to give some food to me.