just what in hell's wrong with me?
Nov. 26th, 2003 11:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phosfateGot unbelievably twitchy yesterday afternoon, thanks in no small part to listening to the woman in the next cube fight with her husband on the phone. For some reason, she thinks that an inch of padded fabric with no ceiling is sufficient protection for her privacy. Add that to the frustratingly work-free, deserted atmosphere of a pre-holiday office and...fuck it, I went home at 3:00.
Big brother had been there, leaving us a plate of flan made by his girlfriend. I was wary of it, because after 35 years of various brothers' GFs' cooking...well...we all remember Mary's lemon pie from 1977 and have sworn that This Must Never Happen Again. Also Mom couldn't quite remember what it was called, 'cause she's 125 years old, and decided it was creme brulee. I love creme brulee, but I don't think it comes on a large pizza plate. So, later maybe. Anyway, we've got creme brulee, she says, and my oldest niece (the one who used to date the guy from Pavement) is getting married to some guy (not a member of a pop band, as near as anyone knows) at some point in the future. And Donnie agrees with her that the thing growing out of her orchid looks like a penis.
Went to bed, had technicolor nightmares for two hours, woke up and had absolutely no idea where I was. VALIUM, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!
B. Brother rang up at 9:30. Did we try the flan? How's the flan? Is the flan good? What did we think of the flan? Thus confirming my suspicions about its quality as creme brulee. I told him Mom had eaten the creFLAN and enjoyed it, and I was waiting for Futurama because they both start with F. He wept uncontrollably. Okay he didn't.
My point being, this flan stuff is good.
Big brother had been there, leaving us a plate of flan made by his girlfriend. I was wary of it, because after 35 years of various brothers' GFs' cooking...well...we all remember Mary's lemon pie from 1977 and have sworn that This Must Never Happen Again. Also Mom couldn't quite remember what it was called, 'cause she's 125 years old, and decided it was creme brulee. I love creme brulee, but I don't think it comes on a large pizza plate. So, later maybe. Anyway, we've got creme brulee, she says, and my oldest niece (the one who used to date the guy from Pavement) is getting married to some guy (not a member of a pop band, as near as anyone knows) at some point in the future. And Donnie agrees with her that the thing growing out of her orchid looks like a penis.
Went to bed, had technicolor nightmares for two hours, woke up and had absolutely no idea where I was. VALIUM, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!
B. Brother rang up at 9:30. Did we try the flan? How's the flan? Is the flan good? What did we think of the flan? Thus confirming my suspicions about its quality as creme brulee. I told him Mom had eaten the creFLAN and enjoyed it, and I was waiting for Futurama because they both start with F. He wept uncontrollably. Okay he didn't.
My point being, this flan stuff is good.
