Your Political Profile:
|Overall: 55% Conservative, 45% Liberal|
|Social Issues: 75% Conservative, 25% Liberal|
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Archive for February, 2007
After hearing for years about their fabulous enchiladas, the family and I went to Dart Bowl today for some bowling and dinner. We entered the restaurant area around 6:20, and ordered at 6:25.
At 6:45, still nothing. A customer from another table went to the kitchen and stood in the doorway until someone finally acknowledged him.
At 7:00, the people sitting behind us who sat down a good 20 minutes after we did got their food.
At 7:15, we’d had enough. No food, no eye contact (actually, the waitress was visibly ducking us), no refills, no “your order will be out before midnight,” no nothing. We left five bucks for the drinks and took off.
Their enchiladas may be good, but I won’t know about it.
We headed over to Phil’s Icehouse instead. I adore their Violet Crown burger (patty with grilled onion and bleu cheese on a jalapeno bun). Their onion rings were cooked to a turn, too. It’s just a shame that the patties were so overcooked. The butter rum from Amy’s next door made up for it, though.
This morning I had an exceedingly odd dream about Angelina Jolie wanting to bum a cigarette from me. As I woke, I felt the dream receding and wished there were some way to capture it without having to pay attention to fine motor skills or actually having to speak, which is something I completely avoid until I’ve brushed my teeth. Doesn’t matter who’s around or if I’m alone, I just hate having to open my mouth. I also gag if I happen to drool on myself when I’m brushing, but that’s another story.
So for some reason, as I’m waking up, I wax poetic and say to myself, “Dreams are the cobwebs that hold my eyelashes shut; when my eyes open, the fragile strands of the dreams are inexorably torn and all that’s left is floating shreds in front of my pupils.”
Being artsy fartsy in the morning is, unfortunately, as nauseating as dribbling on myself. Sheesh.
Tonight, as the kids played upstairs, hubby went down to the office to check on something. I heard a muffled, “Ow, damn it!” but figured that since it wasn’t loud, it wasn’t serious. After a couple of minutes, he called me down. Turns out it was a muffled curse since he had been faceplanted in the carpet – fell down the stairs, injured his ankle. I think it’s probably broken – second time since I’ve known him that he’s slipped down the stairs and hurt an ankle. But he was lying on the floor, obviously in great pain, and couldn’t stop giggling. So hard that he couldn’t even think about trying to stand. And giggled for a good 15 minutes after.
Mr. Manly Man wouldn’t go to the doctor, either. I’ve got to try to roust him to urgent care tomorrow. How the hell am I gonna get him upstairs to bed?
DTE Cook is 35 years young, nut/mother of two daughters, two cats and two dogs and lives in Austin, Texas, in the United States. It writes not only for our friend side ARGNet but also in their own Blog named Addlepated. Under this name it probably also most Argonauten is in unForums well-known. Today it writes for a change once with us, because it weiht us into some secrets from its past bad life, and which there so all happened is really interesting.
On another note, I’ve decided to resign my position as staff writer for ARGNet.
Last, but not least, work is starting to step up for the upcoming serious game, World Without Oil, for which I’m excited to work as a community liaison and writer.
Also, the word “liaison” has three vowels in a row. Who know? I’ll have to give my spellchecker a biscuit.