Mucha muchacha
My love for Mexican food will probably result in an untimely death, perhaps from a surfeit of smoky black beans, or hardened arteries from skip-loads of quesadillas. JJ and I went back to Wahaca on Friday night for the fastest meal ever. Arrived at table, 5.25. Finished food and cocktail, 5.55. I should note that this was a petite dinner, by our standards.On a related note, Mr Hall was ill on Friday, owing to what was described to us by Mrs Hall on Saturday evening as a "bad burrito". We both responded, in unison, "there is no such thing as a bad burrito". Mrs Hall went on to make us a delicious dinner (classic French, I should add, no guacamole in sight).
I still feel battered and sad from last weekend. I'm not sure what I can do to overcome this feeling. I am too dull to have any vices at all. Drinking bores me. I'm trying hard to limit my intake of food, so that I don't end up like the Goodyear blimp. I love strong coffee, but too much makes me jitter and jerk. Exercise is something I try to enjoy, but I am hard-wired to hate it. And there is absolutely no way that I am going to throw myself into my work. I can't imagine anything more pointless.
So that leaves me with thinking, which is the source of all my problems in the first place.
Labels: meh
posted by deafdisco @ 12:09 pm
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