The greatest institution in the world: The AntiFrat Delta f. A way of life since 2002. Tuesday, November 30, 2004
Monday night - why?
Why do we do this to ourselves? It's only Tuesday, and I have that Sunday I-feel-significantly-retarded feeling. This time, it wasn't gin that did it, or any other kind of booze - well, okay, for the most part. This time, it's the brownies' fault that I couldn't remember where I'd put my keys this afternoon for ten minutes - only to realize that I'd been holding them the whole time.
JM seems to be on a kick for the wine lately, which explains why he had two friggin' huge bottles of the stuff last night. An affirmative aswer to "would you like a little wine?" resulted in being handed a glass to full to the brim with liquid that one had to be real quick in taking that first gulp, so as to not spill, that is. This got harder and harder as the wine got drunken and more drunken (are those even workds?).
Is was me (I can admit it) that had the bright idea that we should take a brownie. Let me take a moment here to mention that these aren't just regular Betty Crocker chocolate brownies, if you know what I mean. These are the brownies that when I first made them - and didn't know how strong, ahem, chocolicious they were - I didn't fully recover for weeks. Literally weeks.
So the next thing we knew it was three o'clock in the morning and we're in Farrarry's eating pizza and getting those "you must have brain damage" looks from the waiter. Mike and I, having brought our portable phones, were seeing who could get the farthest from the house and still have reception. Mike won, but I want a rematch. I really don't remember much after that.
I woke up this morning with the house absolutely fucking boiling, for some one had knocked the themostat all the fucking way up! It was thirty degrees, and I felt a little off-kilter as it was. The roof of my mouth was all burnt for some reason too. Maybe from sucking in the flame of a lighter, but I don't have conclusive proof. All together not an awesome way to start the day. The moral of the story is that my brownies are just too, uh, chocolaty for their (and my) own good. In the future, I recomend just eating them on weekends.
JM seems to be on a kick for the wine lately, which explains why he had two friggin' huge bottles of the stuff last night. An affirmative aswer to "would you like a little wine?" resulted in being handed a glass to full to the brim with liquid that one had to be real quick in taking that first gulp, so as to not spill, that is. This got harder and harder as the wine got drunken and more drunken (are those even workds?).
Is was me (I can admit it) that had the bright idea that we should take a brownie. Let me take a moment here to mention that these aren't just regular Betty Crocker chocolate brownies, if you know what I mean. These are the brownies that when I first made them - and didn't know how strong, ahem, chocolicious they were - I didn't fully recover for weeks. Literally weeks.
So the next thing we knew it was three o'clock in the morning and we're in Farrarry's eating pizza and getting those "you must have brain damage" looks from the waiter. Mike and I, having brought our portable phones, were seeing who could get the farthest from the house and still have reception. Mike won, but I want a rematch. I really don't remember much after that.
I woke up this morning with the house absolutely fucking boiling, for some one had knocked the themostat all the fucking way up! It was thirty degrees, and I felt a little off-kilter as it was. The roof of my mouth was all burnt for some reason too. Maybe from sucking in the flame of a lighter, but I don't have conclusive proof. All together not an awesome way to start the day. The moral of the story is that my brownies are just too, uh, chocolaty for their (and my) own good. In the future, I recomend just eating them on weekends.
# posted by tylert @ 9:34 p.m. 
___
