A Cheesy Menu...
Gnomey sorry. Gnomey has been silent due to massive amounts of food being chewed in her mouth, leaving her unable to speak and without the healthy energy to type.
I did not get to cook a single meal this weekend. Now that may seem a bonus to a lot of people out there but for me--Arg! My kitchen is empty, my soul is unfulfilled. I know, I'm an utter fool. I might as well run around crying that I'm quitting my job because they pay me too damn much money. But I take out my stress through cooking and I keep my self-esteem up by preparing healthy delicious meals with my own hands. Couple this blocked vent with our apartment complex's gym being remodeled, and therefore closed, and I feel like a slug. A fat slug that a sloth could beat in the 50 yard dash. And, in addition, eating out is hardly inexpensive.
Let's see just how the calories (and the dinero) fell:
What is it about socialisation that requires food? I ask you. I suppose it is something to do with your hands and mouth at
socially awkward moments, a prop you bring along just in case you run out of interesting things to say. The Boyfriend and I can be hermits, I admit. We like to stay home and take full advantage of the Netflix system--Love the Lost by the way. So, I try to be a good girl and socialise like my kindergarten teacher said I should try to do more and what do I get? A spare tire and an empty wallet. Shit. No offence to the many we entertained this feastful weekend--Pops, Julie, Kenna (the troll in his cave, shouting RAH as he waves his club) and Isaaca, Billy boy of former Blue fame, and Joshy with Suzanne.
I now have less than $20 in my checking account and a friend to take to dinner for his birthday tomorrow evening. Where's the paycheck from that fabu new job? Somewhere in route to direct deposit, lost in the land of misplaced left socks.
I did not get to cook a single meal this weekend. Now that may seem a bonus to a lot of people out there but for me--Arg! My kitchen is empty, my soul is unfulfilled. I know, I'm an utter fool. I might as well run around crying that I'm quitting my job because they pay me too damn much money. But I take out my stress through cooking and I keep my self-esteem up by preparing healthy delicious meals with my own hands. Couple this blocked vent with our apartment complex's gym being remodeled, and therefore closed, and I feel like a slug. A fat slug that a sloth could beat in the 50 yard dash. And, in addition, eating out is hardly inexpensive.
Let's see just how the calories (and the dinero) fell:
- Friday Lunch: Baja Fresh
- Friday Dinner: Chuy's greasy mexican
- Saturday Lunch: Carb-o-rama Macaroni Grill
- Saturday Dinner: Homemade Lasagna at a BBQ (yes, I know, very strange choice) with birthday cake included
- Sunday Lunch: Tommy Bahama's Cafe, fried fish sandwich
- Sunday Dinner: My Big Fat Greek Restaurant's gyros
What is it about socialisation that requires food? I ask you. I suppose it is something to do with your hands and mouth at
socially awkward moments, a prop you bring along just in case you run out of interesting things to say. The Boyfriend and I can be hermits, I admit. We like to stay home and take full advantage of the Netflix system--Love the Lost by the way. So, I try to be a good girl and socialise like my kindergarten teacher said I should try to do more and what do I get? A spare tire and an empty wallet. Shit. No offence to the many we entertained this feastful weekend--Pops, Julie, Kenna (the troll in his cave, shouting RAH as he waves his club) and Isaaca, Billy boy of former Blue fame, and Joshy with Suzanne.I now have less than $20 in my checking account and a friend to take to dinner for his birthday tomorrow evening. Where's the paycheck from that fabu new job? Somewhere in route to direct deposit, lost in the land of misplaced left socks.
posted by Gnomey G at 7:47 PM
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