Saturday, March 05, 2005

Big Mac Attack

On occasion (ok, maybe daily...or even hourly), I have been known to suffer from low blood sugar. When my blood sugar dips too low, I swiftly turn into a combination of Joan-Collins-as-Alexis-Carrington and that possessed, bile spewing girl from "The Exorcist".

I don't mean to, it just happens.

Tonight, during a phone conversation with my friend Rob, while I was feeling particularly low, food-wise, I hissed this through clenched teeth:

"Don't make me crawl through this phone and punch you in the fucking face."

The reason for said outlandish outburst: Rob was taking too long (too long being 60 seconds) in deciding where to have dinner.

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