Oh, it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood today, campers! FIRSTLY of all, the combination of Chuckweasel’s disdain for cheese biscuits and the rookie waiter’s ignorance that I was pouring whole basket-fuls into the takeout box has resulted in my having not only EATEN my weight in cheesy buttery goodness, but also CARTED SOME HOME! Then SECUNDUS, I got to work this morning to discover that for some unknown reason the upstairs computer was already awake, so I didn’t have to climb up the creepy, tilty possibly-haunted stairs! And THIRD-A-MUNDO, tonight is the opening night for Chuckweasel and me at our bar gig, so I’mown get my groove on!
There is some sadness, though… I have finally accepted that I can no longer drink the big ol’ fishbowl full of pina colada they have at the Red Lobster (cleverly called a “Lotta Colada”)… because I believe I am allergic to pina. Not to colada, ’cause that’s coconut and I can still eat the World’s Most Gluttonous Soup which is made with coconut milk (Rundown Cafe and Tsunami Bar in Kitty Hawk, NC — get the Rundown Soup and the conch fritters and eat ’til they have to roll you out). So it must be the pina, ’cause that’s really the only time I’m exposed to pina (in the pineapple sense, you pervy bitches). This is even more upsetting than when Dear Sweet Mama and I discovered that we were allergic to the peach margarita mix at the yummy Mexican place, because all that did was make our lips go numb, so we just drank them anyway. The pina thing, though, it makes my throat close up and I can’t breathe and then I throw up, so no more pina for Hoody.
I’ll just have to switch to the Lobster’s Malibu Hurricanes… further proof that the colada was not to blame.