2001-06-18 :: 3:34 p.m.
It's just a phone call. And, remember, we're working on re-building trust.
If I can't believe he's not doing the right thing, then I may as well pack it in and go live in the mountains, all reclusive and cranky. Or something.
Note to self: understand the importance of heavyweight words spoken to me in moments of clarity.
In no particular order: liver, sushi, and HOT HOT HOT chicken wings.
This is a travesty. I will allow myself not to ever touch liver again, because it is totally repellent and not fit for human consumption. But sushi and spicy hot chicken wings? That is obscene.
I will make myself get over the coldslimy texture of sushi. It's fish, for the love of God and I eat fish all the time.
And I will make myself love spicy chicken wings, reveling in the tears streaming down my face and the sweat beading around my forehead. I can't eat bland food my whole life. What am I, three?
So I embrace these oogy-only-to-Sundaygirl foods, because it's time.