In another of life’s signs that I’m aging faster than I ever expected, I suffered my first bout with indigestion last night. This was pretty disappointing for me because all my life I have prided myself on my cast iron stomach’s ability to digest pretty much everything I put into it, from small rocks to the “Suicide”-flavored Mr. Misty at Dairy Queen*. But after taking the GF to dinner (and, granted, eating a fair amount of food even though I didn’t clean my plate) I suddenly found myself having a very uncomfortable feeing in my gut and hot flashes that lasted until well past . It sucked, and now I can completely understand why people who have indigestion sometimes think they are having a heart attack.
In other news, I finally received Godfather and Godfather part II from Netflix yesterday. Part of me is excited to have a Godfather weekend, but another part of me is a little unsure of whether I really want to watch them. You see, I kind of enjoy the look on people’s faces when I tell them I haven’t seen either film – it’s similar to the look one could be given when saying “Death to
Because after all I’m totally being stalked by the blood center lately. They have now started calling me so often during the day that I refuse to pick up the phone. It’s like I have a stalker, but one who only wants me for my blood – a combination vampire/stalker. I still am not certain why my blood type is so in demand – I think they must use it to make some sort of secret drug to cure unicorn disease.
* A slushy-type drink that included all seven possible flavorings, which was pretty much the first mixed drink all kids in my elementary school class were exposed to.