Hey all, happy new year. Thanks for all the e-mails regarding restaurant recommendations--I guess the Atlanta restaurant scene is not quite the New York restaurant scene, but I keep thinking SOMEONE must know how to make a good tandoori chicken nearby and be willing to sell it to me, right? I know the Buford Highway is where I'm going to have to go to get any good ethnic food, but it's just such a production to get there. It involves PLANNING and DRIVING and GETTING LOST and U-TURNS IN FRONT OF EARL'S CLASSIC GUITAR EMPORIUM. So maybe I should learn how to cook.
Chinese New Year was fun. Cal was super excited to have my parents here, and Mack pooped himself with glee at meeting his grandparents. (Well, he pooped, anyway.)
Oh, and a tangentially related story, I went to Krispie Kreme the other day, because--well, it's a really boring story, but basically, I went to the bank, and then I was trying to find things to do to keep me out of the house for longer to practice being away from the baby for at least an hour and a half, because, dude, cut the cord already, and there was a Krispie Kreme, and I knew my parents were coming, and Cal had mentioned wanting to eat some donuts, and--yeah, see, I told you it was boring. Anyway, I got six donuts, which seemed like more than enough at the time, and the person at the register told me that the total was six-something, but was I sure I didn't want to just get a full dozen for just seven-something?
Oh no, I demurred, we couldn't possible eat A DOZEN DONUTS. And then I took the donuts home and ate three. And then Joe ate two. So by the time my parents got here, there was only one donut left, and it wasn't even the kind that my dad liked. (Original Glazed, for you dad-stalkers out there. Now you can entice him into your trap, consisting of a basket held up by a branch tied to a rope, under which is stacked a pile of donuts. You're welcome.)
After my dad grudgingly ate the last donut (he doesn't like custard filled, because he's CRAZY and hates deliciousness) I relayed the story of, "but for only a dollar more, you could super-size your donut order" etcetera etcetera, with the moral of the story being, and that's how they get you, and that's why America has a 95% left main occlusion, The End. Which is true. I waited for him to start telling me how right I was, and how cunning I was for not getting sucked into their commercial enticements.
But instead, my dad looked at me like I had just confirmed what he knew all along, namely that I was NOT VERY SMART, and said, "Yeah, you'll never make that mistake again. NEVER just get six donuts at Krispie Kreme. Either get four, or get the full dozen. Six is not a good deal. Usually I get a dozen, and if your sister is home, she'll eat two, and I'll eat ten."
Chinese New Year was fun. Cal was super excited to have my parents here, and Mack pooped himself with glee at meeting his grandparents. (Well, he pooped, anyway.)
Oh, and a tangentially related story, I went to Krispie Kreme the other day, because--well, it's a really boring story, but basically, I went to the bank, and then I was trying to find things to do to keep me out of the house for longer to practice being away from the baby for at least an hour and a half, because, dude, cut the cord already, and there was a Krispie Kreme, and I knew my parents were coming, and Cal had mentioned wanting to eat some donuts, and--yeah, see, I told you it was boring. Anyway, I got six donuts, which seemed like more than enough at the time, and the person at the register told me that the total was six-something, but was I sure I didn't want to just get a full dozen for just seven-something?
Oh no, I demurred, we couldn't possible eat A DOZEN DONUTS. And then I took the donuts home and ate three. And then Joe ate two. So by the time my parents got here, there was only one donut left, and it wasn't even the kind that my dad liked. (Original Glazed, for you dad-stalkers out there. Now you can entice him into your trap, consisting of a basket held up by a branch tied to a rope, under which is stacked a pile of donuts. You're welcome.)
After my dad grudgingly ate the last donut (he doesn't like custard filled, because he's CRAZY and hates deliciousness) I relayed the story of, "but for only a dollar more, you could super-size your donut order" etcetera etcetera, with the moral of the story being, and that's how they get you, and that's why America has a 95% left main occlusion, The End. Which is true. I waited for him to start telling me how right I was, and how cunning I was for not getting sucked into their commercial enticements.
But instead, my dad looked at me like I had just confirmed what he knew all along, namely that I was NOT VERY SMART, and said, "Yeah, you'll never make that mistake again. NEVER just get six donuts at Krispie Kreme. Either get four, or get the full dozen. Six is not a good deal. Usually I get a dozen, and if your sister is home, she'll eat two, and I'll eat ten."
HE EATS TEN DONUTS? And before you start thinking that my dad is some gigantic fatty fatty fat fat, let me just show you a picture from this weekend:
Clearly, he is Kobayashi. Anyway, Joe went out the next morning and bought a box of a dozen donuts. And then we ate them. And lo, they were good. Happy New Year.
(Fin.)
(What? I didn't say it was a good story.)
(Full picture set here.)
Clearly, he is Kobayashi. Anyway, Joe went out the next morning and bought a box of a dozen donuts. And then we ate them. And lo, they were good. Happy New Year.
(Fin.)
(What? I didn't say it was a good story.)
(Full picture set here.)
(Parentheses! Who doesn't love 'em?)
Me: "you know what, Michelle looks so much like her father"
ReplyDeleteOther me:"well dear, she told you that already, YEARS AGO, she said she was A CLONE OF HER FATHER"
ME:Uh, sorry!
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