Now Playing -
"And She Was" - Talking Heads
Now Eating -
Now Feeling -
Now Tweeting
- Melanie
You'd have thought Taco Bell was the Holy Grail, from the lengths I went to to get me some last night.
Huz and I were out all day yesterday - dropped off the car around 11, ate breakfast, headed down to the blood bank (turns out I couldn't give because of the slight cold) and then went clothes shopping for him. He got several pairs of pants and jeans, and used up a Barnes & Noble gift card. Went back to the repair place - they hadn't touched our car yet. Headed home, snarfed some Italian bread and sauce for dinner (I can improvise "meals" with the best of 'em ::rolls eyes::), showered, headed back to pick up the car (which has been healed, for the moment), and headed out to rehearsal. Went well; we've been told to not pay too much attention to the crappy book, and instead concentrate on the dozens of standards that make up the show. Finished on time, after having gotten through about half the first act. But I was exhausted and hungry.
The Bell called.
I listened.
But first, I needed money. Went to three, count 'em, three cash machines. The first one had no money. The second only had fifties. No way was I bringing a fifty to Taco Bell. They'd laugh me down the street. Plus, I feel guilty even handing Yuppie Trading Cards (ye olde crisp cash machine twenties) to fast food restaurants, because I remember how much it sucked to have to make change for them every single day at the "Y." First thing in the morning, the avalanche of twenties began. "Do you have anything smaller? No, we don't have change yet. No, we do not keep a bank. (Because the bookkeeping department doesn't trust us, that's why.) And no, we cannot break A HUNDRED."
The third machine was just plain not working. So I resigned myself to hunger.
But The Bell still beckoned me, even as I drove off into the (figurative) sunset.
"Melllllllaaaaaanieeeee...look at the nice 7-11 there by the side of the road...the one with the ATM...sure, you'll have to pay the surcharge, but isn't my good Seven Layer Nacho deliciousness woooooorth it? You know you waaaaaaaant meeeee...."
I caved. I'm weak, what can I say? I realized in college, when I first had my own apartment, that I could eat any time I wanted. And eat I did. At the time, I had the raging metabolism to keep up with that; it took until then for me to weigh over a hundred pounds. But my mother's admonishment of "Just wait, some day your metabolism will catch up with you..." eventually proved all too true. Couple that with lack of willpower and reluctance to deny myself anything, and throw in a healthy dash of inherent laziness, and you have the result: the ever-expanding ass. Not that I'm morbidly obese by any means; there's just more of me than I'd like. If there were more of me and it were toned and muscular, I'd be fine with that. But right now I am weak and slow, and not happy.
Time to make time.
And ignore the siren song of the Evil Nachos.
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