saint-louise's Diaryland Diary
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Never write a diary entry when you're hungry.
I'd also like to point out that I don't even particularly like "Taxi" to begin with. Never have. Now this could be that the humor is so keenly sophisticated and finely-honed that only the coolest of the cool people (the history of the disco…such lonely places since those folks began to procreate) "get" it. But I'm not about to stake the soundness of my body, and the lives of several newborn kitties and puppies, on the possibility of truth in that idea.
Just so we're clear.
I do like lemon pies, though. My stomach says, "Yes! Yes! Oh, yes! More, baby, more! Faster!" But just a few layers of muscle out from that tenacious little organ and just under the skin, my fat repository is screaming, "Stop! For the love of monkeys, we're at maximum capacity, Pillsbury doughgirl! Purge!"
You don't even get three guesses on which little internal voice wins out with me every time. Half a guess, maybe.
I also like anything starchy. Make me a bed of mashed potatoes, rice, pasta, and bread products, and I guarantee I'll frolic in it like a sprightly foal.
Does anyone else notice how often I talk about food in this diary?
Talk about your new-age food obsession.
10:55 a.m. - 2003-03-12
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