I know No One Cares What [I] Had for Lunch, but I had pie. Carmel Apple pie at Mom’s. Then at Wilma’s I had Pumpkin Pie, forever to be known as Arzaana-Fay’s Special Pumpkin Pie, and also Pecan Pie. I also had some Chocolate Pie.
Wilma knows we like the 1111 Mississippi restaurant, and she made the overly sweet and gooey BASTARDIZATION of St. Louis Gooey Butter Cake they serve there, along with the real thing, which is yellow cake mix + butter. So I had that. And some turkey. And perhaps yams. I don’t remember. Drunk on pie. I know I had Cranberry Orange Walnut relish, because I can feel it sitting in my duodenum right now.
It is ALL bottlenecked in my duodenum, but my belly is empty. I think I’ll have some pie. And then I’ll go shopping. Gary and I loooooove the whole post-Thanksgiving crowd scene.
6 responses to “I Know You Don’t Care”
Dude! What happened to your blog? It looks all funny.
Nuh-huh! It looks ok to me. Is it just my blog or all blogs?
Whew! It’s okay now. I guess the aliens have released control of my PC…
Oh, I care what you had for lunch. Seriously. I love reading about food. It may be a mental illness, in fact.
Since I’m not supposed to care what you had for lunch, I will take this opportunity to ramble off topic.I read Pledged on the recommendation of someone on here. Sorority girls drink and obsess on boys? What a shocker. Seriously, this needed a 400 page book with recommendations I could have made as a college freshman?I also tried the Mexican restaurant near our house whose bar you featured in a picture. Pretty good food. Somewhat lousy service. We were in a both that I think was just out of their line of vision. Still, they put that booth there, they should remember it’s there.Oh, and I ate pecan pie STRAIGHT FROM THE PAN while cooking lunch today. I’m the only one who will eat it, so why get another dish dirty?I now return you to your blog topic.
Moose – Mental Illness Welcomed Here.Caroline – Gary and I ate the See’s candy we bought just yesterday for his Mom’s Christmas present. Top THAT, bitch.