August 2004


Any former whiff of this being a “good idea” has long been squelched. An exchange from earlier today:

“The soup wasn’t good?”

“No, it’s just that I can only eat the broth, which was great.”

“We could have served you just the broth.”

“That’s ok, you don’t know how relaxing it is to sit here staring at a huge bowl of shrimp, crab, scallops, noodles, and green onions that I can’t eat.”

An hour ago, I couldn’t have told you the last time I vomited. I made it count with this one…through the nose and loud. Most of it was “the formula” (64 ounces of Gatorade Ice and 255 GM of Miralax), making me worry that not enough of “the formula” traveled in the right direction. I’m in no way to post right now. Stay tuned for ground zero reports.

Ok, I had a BBQ sandwich. Quality: Serviceable. I was pining for good Southern cooking, somewhere that would put the “ass” back in “casserole”, but was short on time. That’s entirely untrue; really, I was just looking for an excuse to make that casserole joke - one that’s had me giggling for the past hour. Just ate my last meal for almost two days. I’d prefer to keep it a secret.

See, it gets a little boring when I post daily.

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