I was all proud of myself because I pulled a potor - I took a picture of my dinner. But as I view it, I don't think I'll post it simply because I can't quite imagine anyone else being more excited about it than me.
A warmed up sweet and sour pork chop
side of welch's grape juice
If nothing else, it was colourful. :) I can't help but be intrigued by the possibilities of it's presence once it is biologically processed.
So smarts called last night. Smarts has been calling a LOT actually. Once a day? Noooooooo. Twice?? Nope. Thrice, you say??? Way too much to say for that. But because she's my sister and mom made her play with me when I was a kid, I talk to her. Except for last night, shortly after 11pm.
Normally I'm fairly easy going. I have my quirks (which Kiki and CJ can attest to), where I freak completely out and give the mic to my inner voice that ideally should only be playing through my head, but other than that, I'm fairly even keeled. Except when I'm tired. Don't fuck with me when I'm tired because it ain't pretty. At 11pm last evening, I was in bed. Asleep. I was tired. See previous notation on me and tired.
Apparently I was the source of amusement at the Smart household. In fact, they were still giggling about it tonight. Not only did I hang up on her, someone called back shortly thereafter and I, thinking in a sound and logical manner, naturally assumed that it was Ms Smarts once again. I picked up the phone and heard some rattling, sighed a disgusted sigh and said something along the lines of "would you just fuck off and go to bed" and then hung up. Because this is not an unnatural or unrealistic thing to do between we sisters.
Come to find out, strangely enough, it wasn't smarts that called.
They never called back.
It's 11pm. I'm going to bed. Don't call.
Only mediocrity is always at its best.
Max Beerbohm (1872-1956)