| |
|
Todd, I'm sorry. You're absolutely right, you have a much better imagination when it comes to food than I do and I should know to trust your instincts better--those bleu cheese/chocolate parfaits were delicious!
The truth is, I was responding to you from a place of anger, which I know I should never do. And, not to play the "blame game" or anything, but just to explain my behavior, at the time that I wrote that there was this large family of tourists, possibly Swedes, who were very sweaty and red-faced and poorly dressed, arguing loudly with the poor barista because they didn't get what they thought they ordered--I mean, come on, it's almost impossible to understand you, she's doing her best! Anyway, it was very aggravating. But the Starbucks I'm in now is very peaceful and I have gone to my serene place, which is a moonlit meadow in 1987, looking for constellations with my cousin Amanda; I suggest you try something similar, because you sound kind of aggravated, too.
You'd probably be rushing home every 15 minutes to keep up surveillance on your own fucking apartment.
No, it's cool, I thought of a really intelligent solution to that problem. It occured to me that if I just booby-trapped the doors and windows of my apartment, I could come and go as I please! So anyway, if you let me come to your bbq, I will be on excellent behavior, I promise. |
|
|
