Sunday, June 24, 2012

Lure Coursing Adventure, Day 2

Rocket got his second Q, and Revy biffed her second Q. I think she's just not tall enough for this sport... she lost the lure when it went over a hill again. Oh well, failing has never been this cute!

This blog post has been improved... with photos!

We did run into a really annoying woman though. As we're watching Best in Field, a large Honda Pilot pulled up next to where we were sitting. A man and a woman got out. The man went to tend to their dogs (Wolfhounds) and the woman sauntered over to where we were sitting. She stood directly in front of Revy's crate, with this constipated look on her face that made it clear she wasn't pleased. She said something like, "WHAT is in there?" to which I told her it was a corgi. The constipated look returned to her face. She continued to peer into Revy's crate, then turned to me and snottily said, "Are you aware that she has a blue eye?"

... what the hell do I say to that? I ended up saying that I did know she had a blue eye, because I'd had her since she wad ten weeks old.

She walked off to watch her husband run their Wolfhounds in the JC. They both failed. (Ha.)

When they got back, the woman said, "I don't understand. They don't encourage dogs to fraternize like they do at the dog park." No shit, lady, this isn't a dog park. This is an AKC sanctioned event offering points and legs towards official AKC titles, so please show some good sportsmanship and STFU.

Role call for CAT started, and a woman took her gorgeous American Staffordshire Bull Terriers up to be inspected. As she returned to the car, the Rude Wolfhound Woman turned to her husband and not-so-quietly commented, "I bet it hasn't killed anything for a few hours, so it's looking antsy."

I fumed. I didn't say anything, but I did start to shoot significant looks (and eye rolls) in Aryn's direction. I couldn't stop myself from commenting though, once the woman opened her ignorant mouth again. She said, "Look at that pit bull head, with those nasty pit bull ears. Maybe we should go, since the pit bulls are here." I turned to her and said, "Those are actually American Staffordshire Bull Terriers. They are AKC Grand Champions, they are titled in Agility and are VERY nice dogs."

She seemed stunned that I'd actually stood up to her hateful ignorance, stuttered a bit, and muttered something about her not being an expert on dogs. Ya think so, lady? Glad you can admit that you are an idiot. Buh bye.

Afterwards, we decided we had to go to see Lake Michigan since we were a mere eight miles from the beach. We walked down to the waterfront in Racine, saw many interesting people, and had fun watching the dogs enjoy being so close to the lake. Dogs weren't allowed on the beach, so they didn't get to dip their toes in the water. We took some photos and headed back to the car, because the dogs were really hot.

Photos! New and Improved!

The last quarter mile back to the car was a little rough. We'd had trouble finding a place to park, so we'd had to park in a lot in the marina that looked... a little scary. There was barbed wire AND razor wire. We had some less-than-safe-looking people behind us that appeared to be following us. For anyone who doesn't think concealed carry is a good idea... let me just say that knowing I had a loaded gun (and knowing how to use it) made that last quarter mile a worry-free experience.

We're back at the hotel for the rest of the evening. Dinner has been eaten, dogs are asleep, weekend has been fun. Dog trips are the best trips!

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Lure Coursing Adventure, Day 1

I did a very stupid thing last night. I stayed up until about 2am, knowing full well I'd have to be awake at 5am to prepare for yet another road trip to Wisconsin. As a result, I am typing this blog post while extremely tired, so I may jump around a bit. I may even repeat myself. I'm sorry, I'm tired.

Aryn arrived at 6am, and we headed off to Caledonia. First stop was a BP station in Williamsburg IA that had a ton of Amana products... for those of you non-Iowans, Amana is famous for their meats, cheeses, and other old-timey foodstuffs. There was even a little coffee cafe within the gas station, and there were actually people sitting at the quaint little tables. This could mean one of two things... either the people of Williamsburg are starved for entertainment, or it's actually a great place to hang out at 7am on a Saturday morning.

I bought an entire summer sausage. I couldn't resist. Then I watched Aryn feed Rocket, which was kind of gruesome... or was it awesome?

Also, I bought an "energy drink" to help keep me awake. It was terrible. It tasted like melted gummy bears drowned in Sudafed.

Confession. I am terrified of birds flying at my car. I cringe, I duck, I scream like a little girl. Aryn thinks this is hilarious. To her, I say..... frogs with eggs on their backs. 'Nuff said.

I offended Garmin early on in the trip. Garmin is my GPS, and she's a bitch. In retaliation, she took us through three million tiny little towns, and kept taking us down 55mph roads. I finally muted her. After awhile, I decided she could talk again so I unmuted her. She didn't talk. Yes, she gave me the silent treatment. I had a miniature breakdown in the car, and frantically apologized to Garmin. Finally she decided to talk again.... our relationship is on the mend. I need to be more careful in the future to not offend Garmin. She's mean, but apparently quite emotionally vulnerable.

We finally arrived at the lure coursing site.

A month ago, I mentioned that the worst job at a lure coursing trial had to be the huntmaster. I was wrong. Hands down, the worst job at a lure coursing trial is the hoo-haa wiper. Every female dog has to be checked to see if they are in season. I hope I never have to be the hoo-haa wiper.

Revy went first. It started out badly - she was too far from the lure when it started, and we didn't get a definitive Tally Ho. Before we could re-start her, she spotted the lure and took off. She took the first couple turns really well, but the plastic bags were old and flat, so they didn't flutter around much. She lost them over a hill, then lost them again in some long grass. It's hard for a dog whose eye-level is six inches above the ground. Sadly no Q, but we did get brownie points for her adorable bunny-butt and her phenomenal recall.

Rocket did so well - he was on the lure like his life depended on it, finished strong and effortlessly got his Q. I'm so excited to go coursing with him again... I'm sure he and Kaylee will make an unstoppable team.

Got to the hotel, dropped off the dogs, headed to The Outback Steakhouse. It was official Stupid College Freshman Waitress Day, and I got to explain that gluten is not in cheese. Ordered a Chocolate Thunder From Down Under. That's a dessert, not a stripper. They really need to figure out a better name for it.

Got back to the hotel, took the dogs for a walk, then went back up to the room and collapsed from exhaustion.

We're watching TV now.

Aryn is watching Telemundo. There's a midget, and an old guy with a silly hat, and someone dressed up as a bug, and a busty woman singing.

Wait, now we're watching a guy on the National Geographic channel kiss, lick and wash his car. This is disturbing. The car's name is Vanilla. "We do communicate... in her own mechanical essence." - Crazy Guy who is in love with his car. Weird.

A Bee Movie.

Pawn Stars.

Some sort of prison documentary.

Who the hell is Suze Ormann?

OMG, Wild Wild West!

Aryn is looking for HBO, because True Blood is on tomorrow and she can't miss True Blood. I'm.... gonna end this blog post now. More tomorrow.

Monday, June 18, 2012

Well that Smelt interesting....

I found some smelt at Walmart today. I have been meaning to add a bit of seafood to the dogs' diets, and the sight of adorable little dead fish in a bag made me way happier than it should have. What can I say, I'm easily amused.

Here's what was on the menu for tonight. Beef mix, egg, chicken wing, chicken liver, and one adorable little smelt for each dog. Talla eats in her crate because she can get grouchy with the other dogs at mealtime. Jayne and Kaylee eat in the kitchen.

Of course, the beef mix disappeared first. The dogs love their beef mix above all other edibles, so they horked it down and moved on to the chicken wing and the egg. The chicken liver and the smelt confused them. As I supervised, I noticed that Jayne and Kaylee seemed to be having a silent conversation about the last two food items in their bowls.

Kaylee: What is this, fish? I don't know... uh.... OKAY THIS IS GOOD! OM NOM!
Jayne: Why are you eating that? That's gross!
Kaylee: You have one too, dummy.
Jayne: I do? Oh... I DO! Maybe.... hm. How do I eat it?
Kaylee: I can show you....
Jayne: NO! I am not falling for that again! I remember last time, how you "showed" me how to eat a chicken foot, and then you ate my chicken foot and I had no more chicken foot!
Kaylee: Okay, let's see you eat it then, since you obviously don't need my help...
Jayne: .... Fine. *eats part of the smelt*
Kaylee: So, I'll trade you the rest of your smelt for this awesome blob of pinkish goo!
Jayne: What is that, a liver? You didn't like your chicken liver?
Kaylee: Why would I? Liver is disgusting.
Jayne: I would very much like your liver... but... I'm not sure I want to give up on my smelt just yet....
Kaylee: You snooze you lose! *eats the rest of Jayne's smelt*
Jayne: HEY! I did not agree to this trade!
Kaylee: Too bad. Your smelt was delicious. Ha ha ha, you're a moron!
Jayne: *is sad*
Kaylee: .... you can still have my liver, if you want.
Jayne: I don't want your liver.
Kaylee: You ate your liver just fine, why don't you want mine?
Jayne: Because it has girl cooties on it, and you already licked the blood off.
Kaylee: Well aren't you picky all of a sudden...
Jayne: *sulks*
Kaylee: Whatever. I'll just eat my liver.
Jayne: NO! I.... I want it.
Kaylee: Haha, reverse psychology rocks!
Jayne: *finishes liver* Reefers psych eulogy? What's that?
Kaylee: Just forget I said anything.
Jayne: Oh.... *looks confused*

And there you have it. An imaginary conversation I invented for my dogs. Dinner Hour at Casa Petesch is never dull.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Hodgepodge 8.0

I can't believe I've missed an entire week of running. It's sad, but it happened and there's nothing I can do to take it back. I have a ton of great excuses though! First I accidentally glutened myself and didn't feel like running, then I went on a road trip to Wisconsin, then I totally meant to run but fell asleep (that was last night) and tonight, well....

Husband and I went to a new Chinese buffet with my brother-in-law and his wife, and I may have eaten a pickled baby octopus*, and I may now be sick.**

* I totally did.
** and I totally am.

Speaking of the Husband, he said something really stupid today so I've been telling everyone about it:

Husband: "You don't appreciate me anymore. I'm moving to Siberia."
Me: "Bring me back a tiger."
Husband: "A... why a tiger? Are there tigers in Siberia?"
Me: ..............
Husband: "Siberian... tiger. Siberian Tiger. Oh yeah, I guess there are tigers in Siberia."
Me: *facepalm*

Normally I'd be worried about Husband reading over my shoulder, but not tonight. He just got a new video game called 'Lollypop Chainsaw' and is currently killing zombies as a whorish cheerleader. I just watched a few minutes of it, and it's amazing on so many levels. I may actually play this game.

Night all. I promise I'll run tomorrow.

Saturday, June 9, 2012


Oh boy, where to start... where to start.

I woke up this morning at 3:30am. I showered, brushed my teeth, let out and fed the dogs, and drove forty-five minutes to Norwalk to pick up my friend Aryn.

From Norwalk, Aryn and I headed to central Wisconsin to pick up roughly 600lbs of meat for the dogs. It's a seven hour drive from Norwalk to our beef supplier, so we had to hit the road while it was still dark.

The drive up was reasonably uneventful. Or if it was eventful, I don't remember any of it because it was so early in the morning that I was probably driving on auto-pilot. I remember mentioning several times how pretty southern Wisconsin is, with its bluffs and hills and ravines and gorges and ancient farm structures. If you've never had a chance to experience rural southern Wisconsin, I highly suggest driving up there to take a look - it's breathtaking.

The last half-hour of our journey landed us in rural central Wisconsin, where no road was straight for more than thirty feet. Twisting, turning, doubling back... we quickly lost our bearings in the woodlands. Our destination was a USDA-inspected beef processor that also sells raw beef for pet-food use. We had no idea where we were going. As we passed a shady-looking trailer with a ton of cars parked out front, we decided that we were somewhat lost. Turning around, we finally figured out that we'd passed the place a few lots up.

We pulled into the facility, and were ushered into the office by a very friendly guy who owns the place. He had our order ready for us, and even helped us load it up. Here's what eight weeks of raw food for seven dogs looks like:

SUPER IMPORTANT NOTE: I know the packaging looks alarming, but keep in mind that legally, most (if not all) meat not approved to be sold for human consumption must be labeled as such. Our beef mix contains green tripe - which is an extremely healthy part of a balanced canine raw diet but is not legal to be sold for human consumption. 'Denaturant' is a substance added to the meat - by law - to make it unsuitable for us humans to eat, usually by messing with the palatability of the product. In this case, the denaturant is bone meal. Yes, the bone meal used in our mix is safe for dogs.

Anyway - now that the super important note is out of the way, let's continue with our journey!

We headed for home, but first stopped to refuel the HHR which had earned a new nickname... The Meatlocker. (I've since considered getting the vanity plate MEATLOKR, because it's hilarious and now an inside joke... and I love inside jokes. However, deciding to get a vanity plate when you've only had three hours of sleep and have currently been on the road for more than 9 hours straight may not be the wisest time to make a decision like that.)

Somehow we managed to find the most redneck BP station in Wisconsin. I'm not joking. They actually sold ammunition at this BP, along with a large selection of hard liquor and archery supplies. I think I heard some dueling banjos over by the Doritos. The support poles in the gas station were wrapped with camouflage fabric and fake vegetation. We got out of there as fast as we could, since it was obvious that we "weren't from 'round there."

To keep the meat cold and the smell (tripe is stinky!) to a minimum, we had the air conditioning cranked full blast. As a result, we were forced to wear our jackets and hooded sweatshirts. Other drivers shot us funny looks as we bundled up in preparation for the drive home. Yes, we knew it was 95 degrees outside - that doesn't change the fact that we were driving in The Meatlocker. Aryn hopped into the car, and with a half-hearted, exhausted chorus of The Raw Song, we headed home.

The Raw Song:
99 boxes of meat in the car,
99 boxes of meat,
Take one down, pass it around,
98 boxes of meat in the car,
... and so on.

It was a tame drive home until something.... was seen. Something that cannot ever be unseen. I've debated putting this part in the blog because I know who reads it (HI GRANDMA!) but let's face it - everyone who reads this blog was young and uncouth at one point in time, so I'll try to be as mature as possible about this.... but no promises. Keep in mind that Aryn and I were both quite sleep-deprived and have the same overactive sense of humor. We get along so well because we both find humor in the most unusual (and often inappropriate) places.

Let me paint the picture for you.

I was driving. I was paying attention to the road, checking my mirrors occasionally and staying under the speed limit because Wisconsin police were around every corner... and it's the law! Aryn was sitting in the passenger seat, working on her cross-stitch. The car was silent, save for the whoosh of the air conditioner and the hum of the open road.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a scantily clad motorcyclist passing me on the right. This guy was heavyset, wearing nothing but shorts, flip flops, a hat and a pair of sunglasses. He was going about seventy miles per hour. Aryn saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She looked up, turned her head towards my window, and got a glimpse of the same horrible sight that I had just seen. Our eyes went wide and our jaws dropped as the motorcyclist roared past.

.... what do you think happens to the chest area of a heavyset shirtless man, on a motorcycle doing seventy miles per hour? Let's just say he was energetically waving at us, but not with his hands.

Aryn and I are huge Family Guy fans, and we couldn't help it... our minds instantly went to the "side boob" skit. (Click here if you're not familiar with it, and want to know what I'm talking about.)

We were silent for a few more seconds... then burst into laughter. We couldn't contain it, it just gushed out with such force that we were both crying within minutes. This was too much. We were exhausted, the car smelled like a butcher shop, it was freezing cold, and we'd just seen a partially naked man fly past us on a Harley with his chest area flapping in the wind. There was nothing we could do or say or think that could possibly make this road trip normal now.

About an hour later, we were just getting out of Dubuque when I noticed the same motorcyclist on the other side of the road. He was parked on the shoulder, poking at his chest area... probably wondering where all the chafing had come from. I pointed and yelled, "OH MY GOD IT'S SIDE BOOB!" Aryn whipped her head around, saw the guy examining himself, and a new wave of hysterical laughter ensued. We had now been on the road for about twelve hours straight, and we'd lost our minds. We decided that the guy would henceforth be known as Sideboob Joe, and to quote Aryn, "we took the joke further than it ever needed to go."

For the remaining three hours of the drive, we'd spontaneously lapse into hoarse fits of laughter over Sideboob Joe. Our eyes burned, our ribs were sore, we felt sick to our stomachs and we were having trouble breathing. We approached the encounter from every possible angle, twisting it more and more until the mere thought of anything remotely related to Sideboob Joe would send us into a fit of hysterics.

The Prayer of Sideboob Joe
Sideboob Joe,
wherever you are,
may you be on the road,
or on the side of the road.
keep on flappin'.

After more than fifteen hours on the road, we arrived at my home in Prairie City. Half the meat was mine, and we had to haul it from 'The Meatlocker' (haha) to the freezer in my basement. This meant carrying 300lbs of frozen meat up the front steps, through the living room and kitchen, then down a flight of stairs. After carrying the first few boxes, Aryn decided to try sliding a box down the last flight of stairs to alleviate some of the soreness in our backs. The 30lb slab of beef went hurtling down the stairs, landing with a heavy thud at my feet. Aryn was so pleased with her successful idea that she yelled out an enthusiastic "YESSS!" and ran to get more frozen slabs of meat to throw down the stairs. With each slab, we laughed harder and harder. I'm surprised I didn't lose any toes, and that Aryn didn't fall down the stairs from exhaustion.

After my share, we drove to Norwalk to unload Aryn's share. By this point we were zombies. We tried to do simple math to figure out how many more boxes we could fit in the freezers, but failed miserably. Apparently our short term memory was shot, and Aryn started trying to do math problems by air-drawing equations on the lid of her freezer. Even though we both knew one box fed the dogs for one week, we still tried to figure out pounds per day in relation to total freezer capacity, and how much time that would last.

I suddenly realized we could calculate how long a full freezer would last by counting the BOXES instead of the pounds. Because one box = one week. My genius was apparently on a significant time delay.

At this point, I decided I had to go home. So I went home. In my compromised mental state, I attempted to mix Mountain Dew and orange juice to create an energy drink that could power me through this blog post. It sort of worked, but it's not a good flavor. Or texture, since I used high pulp orange juice.

And I'm still laughing over Sideboob Joe.

Petesch OUT! Time for some sleep!

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

So sick of poop.

Today was fantastic.

First thing in the morning, Talla ran outside and snarfed a mouthful of foster-dog poop. She loves foster-dog poop, because it's gross. Immediately after coming back inside, she vomited the poop... right in front of me. Doesn't that sound like a great way to start the day?

It gets better.

Apparently Revy got into something she shouldn't have. 'Something She Shouldn't Have' is a very broad category, as every morsel of food she ingests must be treated with pancreatic enzymes. So, with this ingestion of a mysterious forbidden substance, she had a full-blown EPI attack. I'm not sure if that's even something that exists, but that's what I've decided to call it.

First was the poop. She pooped everywhere. EPI poop is the worst poop of all the poop, so I'm not sure I can even adequately describe how awful it was. EPI dog owners know what I'm talking about... rancid, oily, and foul. I came home from getting the mail to a poop-tastrophe so intense that I just about died. Just as I was finishing cleaning up the poop, she vomited. Everywhere. Just as soon as I'd finish cleaning up one puddle of vomit, she'd go and make another puddle.

I'm really glad we decided to roll up all the area rugs a few days ago, because it could have been much worse than it was.

Steve's solution was to ex-pen her in the basement over one of the storm drains, so we could hose down any further explosions. It was a good plan. She proceeded to vomit about seven or eight more times, and let loose another poop bomb that was even worse than the first round. I didn't even know dogs were capable of producing such potent weapons of mass destruction.

Around 8pm, Revy's gastrointestinal tract finally decided it had done enough damage for one day. She was filthy. Somehow she'd gotten poop on her head, and she smelled awful. It was time for a bath. I bathed her at 9:30pm, and decided that it had been such a horrible vomit-and-poo-filled day that I couldn't go on my run. Mostly because I'd been nauseous for more than twelve consecutive hours, and I didn't want to push myself into puking.

So here I sit. I wanted to run tonight. Instead, I got to wash EPI slime off a very sad little Corgi.

She's just lucky she's cute.

UPDATE: This is crazy, but I just got back from a run. I went running at 11:30pm. I just couldn't let one crappy day (har har, a pun!) get in the way with my running schedule.

Sunday, June 3, 2012

Gettin' Metaphysical, and Other Things

Gettin' Metaphysical.

Aryn, Angela and I went to the Metaphysical Fair in Des Moines this weekend. I know what you're thinking, but stop. Just stop. It was educational and fun, and I fully plan on going next year. It really was the highlight of my weekend.

I talked to an animal communicator about my dogs. As a result, there are a few things I need to do. Jayne needs to know what's expected of him in the house, so I need to write down a "job description" using positive imagery, and tack it to the fridge so he can read it. To avoid making him feel like he's being singled out, I'm supposed to do the same for the other dogs as well.

Jayne also needs to go on more walks where he doesn't have to do anything - just let him be a dog and smell stuff. He needs more joy in his life.

I apparently need to keep the house more dry... it'll help the dogs be more at peace. And cleaner, the house needs to be cleaner. Also, Talla wants to go more places. We'll work on that.

Other Things.

The madness has begun. Yesterday I drove out to pick up large quantities of chicken parts for the dogs. I came home with backs, wings, necks, feet, and a few bags of beef ribs. Chicken feet are crack-for-dogs, so I'll have to be sure to order many more in the future. Our chicken supplier will also be able to provide us with ground chicken mix, as well as ground goat in the fall. They're even going to attempt to find a source of pancreas for Revy!

That's all I've got for tonight, folks.

Wait, no, just kidding. I have more. Blow by blow, as promised, but not as involved as the last time I did this.

8:00am - did my job
4:30pm - finished doing my job
4:31pm - left for Zombie Burger
5:30pm - successfully backed into a diagonal parking spot for the first time!
5:45pm - ate at Zombie Burger with my friend Angela and her family
6:30pm - got lost in Valley Junction
8:00pm - made it back home, fed animals, played with Hugo
10:00pm - tried to go to sleep
11:59pm - was still awake. Internet... forever!

2:00am - still awake
3:00am - finally fell asleep
8:45am - woke up, wish I hadn't.
9:15am - left for Des Moines
10:00am - ogled dead chicken pieces for about two hours, in the parking lot of Sam's Club
1:00pm - put away vast quantities of dead chicken pieces
1:30pm - fed Kaylee a chicken foot, was overjoyed that she actually ate it
2:00pm - made a list of things to accomplish
3:00pm - realized I hadn't done anything on my list
4:00pm - still hadn't done anything on my list
4:30pm - felt bad, accomplished one item on my list (cleaned car)
9:30pm - tried to go to sleep
11:59pm - still awake (this is familiar)

1:00am - still awake
2:00am - finally fell asleep
10:15am - woke up, wish I hadn't.
11:00am - left for Des Moines
11:30am - traded dead chicken pieces and a Rubit for a lens and two Hawaiian dog collars
1:00pm - talked to animal communicator
1:50pm - convinced Aryn to get a tarot reading
2:25pm - got scared by a scary stone vendor, stood around with Angela, thoroughly confused
2:35pm - still standing around, confused
2:40pm - scary stone vendor unconfused us, but I was still scared of him
2:45pm - left Metaphysical Fair
4:00pm - got home, did nothing of consequence until....
9:45pm - went running.

Now that's all I've got for tonight.

Saturday, June 2, 2012

This sh*t is bananas.


Yes, I made banana bread just so I could use that title. I'm baaaad.

My parents bought me a gluten-free banana bread mix from a company called Breads From Anna. There must have been a TV segment about the company, because three people from my hometown emailed me to tell me about it. Of course, when my friend Jess told me about it, I read the website address wrong and thought the company was called Breads Fro Manna. I was confused, in a hilarious sort of way. FRO MANNA, dude!

It was 9:30pm, and I was skipping my run because I'd... well, I felt like skipping. Get off my back, it's been a busy weekend! Anyway, I decided that the bananas I'd bought several days prior were just about ready to go bad, so the Banana Bread Fro Manna had to happen. Tonight. Right now.

I followed the directions. Again I had a mental soapbox-rant over the fact that all recipes call for beating, and that's not cool because not everyone has an electric mixer/beater device. So I whisked it vigorously and hoped it was sufficient.

The directions said to dust the pan with tapioca flour or rice flour. Do you think I had either one? Ha, no. That would have required planning. All I had was soy flour, and it most definitely did not want to be dusted onto anything. Crap. Okay, damage control, what else could I.... oh. Directions also said I could make muffins. Muffins were actually doable.

In interest of full disclosure, I am not a good cook. Pair the cat-vomit batter with my distinct lack of finesse in the kitchen, and I began to have serious doubts.

Setting the timer on the oven, I wandered back to my computer and started typing out this post. Photos were uploaded, giggles were uttered, dogs were told to shut up.

** At this point, the author got up to check on the muffins. **

Well holy cow, they don't look like cat vomit anymore! And they smell good!

** At this point, the author ate a banana bread muffin. **

Um, they're okay. They taste a bit... salty. Weird texture, like they should be fluffy but they're actually kind of slimy, which is a huge contradiction and I think my brain is having trouble wrapping itself around that.

At least I found a way to say, "This sh*t is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S!" tonight.

Tomorrow I'll share the details of my weekend, blow by blow, just like I did a few weeks back. But for now, I'm going to eat another slimy muffin and watch Super Troopers.