Meatballs and Alfredo's Sauce

I'm not sure if this counts as an improvement over last week, but I just barely survived a third workout and am now staring down a bowl of brussels sprouts. Dinner time again. And the most exciting part of my day was finding out that there's an 's' in brussels (rather, a third one) (thanks spellcheck, and google). I was wondering why my fridge had such an odeur nauséabonde, until I realized that I'd cooked them the other night and put them in the freezer with no lid so they could cool down. Needless to say they were somehow worse tasting than they normally are. But like an orgy with the lights out, you just have to tell yourself they're meatballs. IMG_8512

And as if that needed a challenger for highlight of the night, two hours earlier I had to tap on the Tim Horton's drive-thru window to get the dude to give me my change. *cough* ten cents.  I said "uh, hey, how 'bout that dime?" and the look he gave me made me wish I could've crawled right back into that unlit orgy. Now, I didn't actually care about the change - given that it'll soon cost an even $2 for a coffee anyway, and the fact that it fell in between the seat and the door like always - but it was the principle of it. The principle that no one should be able to make my days even less exciting than they currently are. Par example, yesterday morning I was told I'd been given a raise, and when I asked what the new number was, it was less than I thought I'd already been making, which is almost as annoying as my unnecessary use of french terms in depressing blog posts. So I'm going to make up the difference by cancelling my Penthouse subscription and instead selling them all these tantalizing stories of the hardened athlete in sweat-laced spandex alone at home cooking dinner by candle light, and then slowly being penetrated, albeit by Shame.

And as the candle flickers and dies, and a smokey haze fills the room, I think back to that orgy, taking solace in the notion that tonight I'm Flint Cockwood, and it's cloudy with a chance of meatballs.

Sweet dreams.

I'm not sure what you just read either.