I didn’t sleep much last night. I’d love to have you all think that’s solely because I stayed up far too late watching those Chilean miners being rescued. (Which I did and OH MY GOD THE SON of that first miner had me bawling so hard I started coughing and dripping snot into poor Mildred’s cone while frantically petting her on my lap as if that would make the giant ferris wheel turn faster.) But in all honesty, I have to admit there were a few other factors.
First, there’s the issue of my sugar intake over the past several days. I should not be left alone with a birthday cake. Ever. And especially not when it’s raining outside and the only other food in the house is a giant mound of raw collard greens. Cake wins every time – breakfast, lunch and dinner. I’m practically my own vibrator over here thanks to the sugar shakes.
So I decided to mix it up yesterday and grab some lunch at Panera. Yes it’s a chain. Yes there are nine-gazillion adorable local pizza parlors I could chose to patronize. But none of them have free refills and cushy booths in the windows that I can hog for three hours while filling page after page of my legal pad with incomprehensible scrawl. Plus they don’t sell beer. (Which is only a good thing when I’m attempting to get something done. Which I was. Ergo it was a good thing. This time.) And I really like those things in a lunch place. So zip it, Judgey McJudgerson. I eat at Panera and I don’t care (overly) who knows it!
I was really on fire yesterday, pumped about what I was working on. I also ate a salad with super salty feta cheese. Both of these things make me drink lots of fluid. I usually only fret about excessive beverage consumption when alcohol is involved (and by “worry” I really mean “pretend not to notice I drank the entire pitcher all by myself”), but I really should have paid more attention. In hindsight, five tall glasses of highly caffeinated iced tea at 2pm in the afternoon may not have been my best decision ever. Nor was my decision to accept the complimentary chocolate chip cookie having already consumed a heavy slice of breakfast cake a mere six hours earlier.
Even after I sprinted the mile home, spending the entire time trying to keep the fronds from the two giant stalks of brussel sprouts I’d snagged at the Farmer’s Market from smacking me in the face, my toes tapped incessantly as the stimulants rocked my system. I chased the cats around the apartment until Rocco returned from work.
Then we went to dinner (salmon with raisins on top? seriously?) and that new Ben Affleck movie thing. The second we got back upstairs, we flipped on the TV to see how many miners they’d pulled from the bowels of the Earth. None. It was even less climactic than watching a web video of five guys humping an ottoman.
Two miners, a box of tissues, and half an episode of Law & Order later, I finally dozed off. I spent the entire night chasing heavily armed nuns with duffel bags filled full of those thick ball point pens that incorporate four different colored inks, each with their own clicky thing at the top. You know, these things? Smack some wheels and a pulley on that thing and it looks disturbingly similar to the tiny capsule the Chilean government used to pull those miners out, am I right? But the real-life miner capsule didn’t randomly explode orange bunnies into the cab of the nun car like it did in my dream. Which is probably a good thing.
You know what’s not a good thing? Being ripped from your dreams by a cone-kitty licking the tip of your nose because she’s particularly fond of raisin and salmon flavored burps and that’s the only part of your face she can access from inside her cone of shame.
So I’m tired.
This calls for a nap. Or maybe I’ll just sit here and eat another slice of cake while watching the live feed of the rescue site in Chile. Because I can’t seem to quite either of them.
I will never ever knock Panera. When I was working at the office, it was that, lebanese food, or fast food. And it turns out that one can get sick of spicy grilled meat every day. I know, I didn’t believe it either. But its true. So Panera’s sandwiches were awesome. Of course, at some point I worked out that the fact I was just craving turkey on rye meant I should make my own turkey on rye and bring it in.
…and suddenly all I want in the world is spicy grilled meat. And cake.
I had one of those multi-ink pens when they first came out on the market a million years ago when I was a teenager. Oh, we thought we were so cool with the latest pen technology! Pretty sad now, eh? *shaking fist* Kids today don’t know how good they’ve got it!!!!
Thanks, my rant is done. I feel much better now.
And then they came out in fun colors like pink and neon green, and there was much rejoicing, and the mighty dragon was vanquished, AND Al Gore invented the internet.
Guess who had cake for breakfast again?
Goodness woman! What kind of cake is that?! And how could there be any left at this point? I don’t know how, but something tellse me you’re not eating it right.
Send me some orange bunny dreams! That sounds so much more interesting than watching it rain on a swimming pool…again!
*waggles left pinky finger then shoves in right ear while curling tongue* That should just about do it. Let me know what you dream of tonight. It’ll be definitely be orange but hopefully the bunnies will come through, too.
I’ll meet you at Panera anytime. It’s a chain, yes, but the food is decent. Their black bean soup? Delish. And don’t get me started on the bagels with the crunchy sugary toppings.
Sugar overdose followed by a nap — sounds like you may soon need an Intervention.
It’s all about the asiago cheese for me. I love bread. South Beach is like my own personal hell. Throw in Rod Stewart and I’d go mad.
I am with you on the shoog. I haven’t been able to eat sweets past 4 pm in years because it will keep me up at night. As will eating a heavy dinner past 7 pm. Same with wine. That’s why I am usually buzzed well before 5. I am like a geriatric in a not-even-forty-yet body.
Baked goods are always best at breakfast. Wine not so much. You’re thinking of mimosas. And malt liquor.
I love Panera! Their bear claws are really good! *oh yeah they have healthy stuff too*
What’s wrong with cake? It has healthy stuff in it… eggs, milk, flour… etc….cake gets a bad rap;)
it’s your birthday week/month/ cut yourself some slack… next month you can go back to “healthy” eating!
Thing is, it just adds another month on to the whole “holiday binging” thing. I didn’t ask Santa for a ginormous ass this Christmas, but I think that might be what I get. And diabetes.
Obviously I got stuck at the part where you are human vibrator!! OBVIOUSLY!! Now looking forward to my own wrapped and seriously fucked up dreams tonight 😛
Actually I did manage to make it down to the 5 guys humping, but sadly I couldn’t watch. Why you ask? Oddly, it was deemed inappropriate. I was shocked! Mostly because I know my dear sweet Elly would NEVER put up something improper.
That line was for you, of course!
And do I need to put a NSFW if there aren’t any lady or gentleman bits? I mean, it’s five guys humping an ottoman. I don’t know how else to describe it. (Though sidebar, Rocco does NOT like it when I throw in a little “way better than an ottoman, right?” while he’s trying to focus.)
I was belly laughing until the paragraph that had the fire arm toting nuns and then I became chilled to the bone.
No Sister I ever knew allowed you to use a pen. Or God forbid- a pen with bright colors.
Standard yellow number 2 pencil with a fat eraser. Nothing else. Ever.
I believe the exact quote was “Only God is perfect. The rest of us need erasers.”
I think Sr. Josepha packed heat under that habit. I saw it once when she was stuffing kleenex up her sleeve.
I’m willing to bet those five guys humping the Ottoman never had a nun for a teacher, or they’d have been looking over their shoulder expecting those cold claws of justice at any moment.
ahh… i’ve been on that stimulant merry-go-round before. sometimes it’s fun. sometimes the headache that results makes you wish you didn’t exist…
and yay for panera! i love their broccoli cheese soup!
That’s exactly the soup I picked to compliment my greek salad! We would be stellar lunch buddies. Don’t let me buy a cookie, k?
Own personal vibrator…..best line evah…
I run exclusively on double chocolate cake.
Poor Mildred. How long does she have to wear her lampshade, anyway? She will not be able to keep her head down without it.
Hopefully she can get the stitches out today or tomorrow. Which means I can start bedazzling it, right?
what, your panera sells beer? fucking south jersey with their ridiculous liquor license laws. i dream of a panera (and a chipolte, sorry hon, even better) with a frania spigot.
No, my Panera doesn’t but the Chipolte in Chelsea has wine, beer, and tequila. Wanna come play?
#Confession: I seem to be the only person on earth who did NOT watch the miners being rescued…
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