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beansideShort day today at work. I ended up taking off 2 hours early to "prepare" for my new schedule. (Read: I am lazy as fuck.) This will allow me to cook the sausages for tonight's dinner. We have the famed apple sausage, and since that gave Dad impressive heartburn, we have Italian sausage for him. Cooking them is kind of a pain in the ass, but the outcome is so damn tasty.
I got an email from FedEx that I have a package coming. For a minute, I was puzzled, because I totally had forgotten that my mini king cakes are supposed to come today! It comes refrigerated, but not frozen, so there will be king cake in my near future. As I type this, it's at the Baltimore sorting facility, so hopefully, it comes early enough to be lunch.
I realized that I forgot to update on the gumbo and etoufee last week. Sadly, for me, it was a bust. They both tasted artificial and bad to me. Jess and my sister both enjoyed the etoufee, so it was apparently just my fucked up tastebuds. I was very sad about it, and may have shed a couple of tears of frustration. I think, when I have some extra $$, I shall order the gumbo from Commander's Palace. I don't know if it'll be any better for me, but it doesn't seem to have any preservatives. That seems to be a dealbreaker for me.
As usual, my body is less of a wonderland, and more of a really fucked up funhouse.
Wow, fuck in all it's permutations seems to be a favorite word today, doesn't it?
I got an email from FedEx that I have a package coming. For a minute, I was puzzled, because I totally had forgotten that my mini king cakes are supposed to come today! It comes refrigerated, but not frozen, so there will be king cake in my near future. As I type this, it's at the Baltimore sorting facility, so hopefully, it comes early enough to be lunch.
I realized that I forgot to update on the gumbo and etoufee last week. Sadly, for me, it was a bust. They both tasted artificial and bad to me. Jess and my sister both enjoyed the etoufee, so it was apparently just my fucked up tastebuds. I was very sad about it, and may have shed a couple of tears of frustration. I think, when I have some extra $$, I shall order the gumbo from Commander's Palace. I don't know if it'll be any better for me, but it doesn't seem to have any preservatives. That seems to be a dealbreaker for me.
As usual, my body is less of a wonderland, and more of a really fucked up funhouse.
Wow, fuck in all it's permutations seems to be a favorite word today, doesn't it?
