Stupid decisions abound during school break. It’s like I turn my brain off all together. After convocation on Friday night, I stayed at the pub so long I missed the last bus to my house. No problem, right? I would just walk home from the University District, to Crown Hill. (Mistake #1)
I got a gyros sandwich on the way and some baklava for later, which I stuck in my purse. (Mistake #2)
After I had walked about two miles, I decided it was time for baklava. I was so lit I also decided that it was time to run, which I had been doing for about a half a mile in flat, non-supportive shoes. I took the baklava out and started to eat it, and kept running and eating baklava until I got a stomachache.
But man, it was good baklava. I took the left over, honey-encrusted wrapper and put it in my purse, because I did not want to be a litterbug. The next morning everything in my purse was totally covered with honey dots.
After about four miles of walking, running, and eating, I gave up and flagged a cab, and enjoyed the cheepness of a six-dollar cab ride. Woo hoo! The real price, however, was having blisters in really odd places.
The later it got, the madder I got, because I realized that almost every house in Seattle looks the same: cute. Even the rundown ones. I am tired of cute.
Now I have recovered from Friday night, so I decided to start drinking again.
Last night I picked up some of those repellant Mint n Creme Oreos, ostensibly to “cure” my PMS. I was also drinking some pretty decent red wine with dinner which added to my problem.
Mr. Husband scooted downstairs to put the girlie in bed and I was left alone with the whole box of Oreos and a very loud Roy Orbison concert on PBS.
I got totally sick of them after about six, and decided all I wanted was the chalky black disks. I started peeling all the creme off and making it into a ball inside the package.
After denuding the entire package and making a large stack of the disks, I couldn’t resist: I picked up the entire creme ball and blended the green and white creme colors together. Urgh, it felt so good, squishing it through my hands, I can’t even tell you. And then I had a better idea….
When Mr. Husband came back upstairs I was wearing a mermaid bra of mint creme goo and singing “Blue Bayou” very loudly along with the TV. Let’s see Lil Kim top that!
“My God, I can’t even leave you alone for five minutes,” Mr. Husband said. After seven years of marriage, he no longer finds my “antics” amusing.
Don’t EVER do this to yourself. I still smell vaguely of vegetable oil and worse things, after two showers.
I was just finishing this up and Mr. Husband was picking up in the living room: “Here’s your minty nipple, honey.”
Oh, good, I was wondering where that went.