Bison, Exaggeration, and Scandinavia

To clarify something from yesterday's post, I'd like to add extra emphasis on the words "until very recently," regarding The Funasaurus' kitchen participation. Apparently he reads this blog, sometimes! (Hi, baby!) And maybe he called me on a *slight* embellishment last night, as he treated me to a nice dinner. Um. Hee? Ooops. Love you! So, while it is quite true that the kitchen in the college apartment was kind of a waste of space, he really is much more into cooking these days. If we have spaghetti anymore, I don't even bother helping until cleanup (and even then, sometimes, I am fairly princess-like all, "oh, I can't disturb the cat sleeping on my lap, could you get the dishes, darling?") because he makes the best spaghetti, ever. Funasaurus trick #1: buffalo meat, instead of beef. Funasaurus trick #2: lots of spices. Preferably from the Savory Spice Shop in LoDo.

So he is very competent (and not just in the kitchen, heh heh) but still, I think if I hadn't encouraged the idea of cooking, there's a chance we might have ordered stuffed crust pizza from Pizza Hut for Thanksgiving.

Meanwhile, I have decided to get into the full spirit of the holidays by forgoing my lame banana and eating some pumpkin cranberry bread for breakfast, that a nice coworker brought in. I have decided to go to the greasy Mexican restaurant for lunch (buh-bye, PB&J) and am currently devising a plan to skip out on my newfound exercise regime with The Funasaurus, which was supposed to start this afternoon with a light jog by instead going to the bar for happy hour with a girlfriend. I think it's totally worth it, though. My friend is Swedish, and as we all know, (?) Sweden is right next to Norway, and I feel like my friendship with her brings me one step closer to my eventual reign over the neighboring country to her homeland. Despite the fact that she no longer lives there.

Who needs cardio when there's chardonnay to be had?

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!