Andromeda Strain

Did anyone see the Andromeda Strain?

La la love Sci-Fi, always have. BH and I were so looking forward to seeing it Monday. We planned a movie night. Junk food in front of the tube. What could be better?

Nuthin!

First I would like to say how confusing it is for us on the west coast to hear, 'Monday, 9:00 pm' Right? Because if you don't catch the 'eastern time' phrase you will miss the movie altogether. We happened to be home and surfed just in time to catch the beginning of the movie.

For the occasion we bought 2, yes 2 cartons of ice cream. Coffee for me, Triple Chocolate Chip for him. And me. We decide against dinner in favor of tv junk food. It doesn't have to be junk food. It just has to be in a form where you don't have to think about it much. It can't be fussy, I don't want to be preparing a meal. I don't want to have to cut it. It shouldn't have sauce, unless it's the dipable kind. I really prefer to mindlessly pop whatever it is in my mouth without looking.

We start with a rather large bowl of ice cream. Triple Chocolate for him, 1/2 and 1/2 for me. Then I pop a ginourmous bowl of hot air popcorn, generously coated with butter and salt. Followed by another multiscooped bowl of ice cream.

The movie, Andromeda Strain, part I, did not disappoint.

The ice cream? Continued to 'speak' to me for the remainder of the night.

tummy: Why you do dis to me?
mouth: What? You mean the ice cream? It was cold, sweet and yummy!
tummy: AAAHHHHH! I will kill you!
mouth: No, wait! I'm sorry!
tummy: It's too late, I will repay your evil with certain death!

While moaning on the couch about midnight, middle comes home. With cake! CAKE! Did you hear me? CAKE! And not just any cake, no. A tres leche cake! I think that's what it's called. It had the word leche in it. I've been in SoCal long enough to know that means milk. Somehow. This cake! OMG! It has whipped cream! It has fruit! It has a moist, moist moist, very moist, probably milky cake!

It's middles girlfriends birthday cake. I need to have some. Middle says no, milk, whip cream, bad bad bad. You will not feel better eating this cake. My tummy. My tummy says no, please, God in heaven no! My mouth says, how? How can I not eat Middles girlfriends birthday cake? How? What's a little whip cream between friends and colon, huh? Surely you will not punish me for having a little birthday cake? Surely?

I do not listen to reason. Perhaps I do not hear it over the sound of water and gas gurgling through my lower intestines.

By 5:00 am my mouth is sorry. Very sorry. Very very sorry. If tummy stops it's punishment, mouth promises to never never ever ever ever do that again. Cross my heart, I'll surely die, stick a needle in my eye.

I need to put newer mags in the bathroom.

Just in case.

Sometimes mouth lies.