I am beginning to think the way I am about bringing my lunch to work, is the same way I feel about my lovers. (Should you be reading this and were once my lover, this does not include you. You are the exception.) So here it goes.

I have it one night, and absolutely adore it. Savor every minute of the experience. Hold it in my mouth as long as possible and get the most out of it. However, the next day – it’s just not the same. How could I be so finicky? How could I love something so much, and then the next day completely discredit the entire experience so quickly? I toss it in the garbage and go for take out, as if it meant nothing to me.

Oh wait – I don’t sexually go for take out. You know what I mean. How will I tame these wildly ways? A constant buffet? A lazy Susan of entries? A personal chef to fulfill my every whim? Or will I take on a more acquired and astute pallet? One of refined taste, leading me in search of perfection.


In other dashing news, I am off for a haircut. Let’s hope Joey is in a good mood. I have dreams of sexy beautiful hair. I’ll let you know.