For breakfast, I had some stale Taco Bell cinnamon crisps left over from last night. Why are they in my house in the first place? Because I was attempting to challenge the limits of human biology.
Huh?
Long story short, due to an unfortunate series of events (the main one being that thing known as "work". Like, at a job where I get paid in dollars, not vague notions of personal satisfaction that seemingly only women work. In a post-Hilary-Rosen-making-total-sense-and-being-excoriated-anyway world, I feel the need to explain this.) Anyway. I'd been awake for 27 hours, and doing a really great job of pretending to be lucid. So "lucid", in fact, that I smiled and nodded when Jon said he wanted Taco Bell for dinner. He kindly offered to bring me back some cinnamon twists, in addition to the Crunchwrap that I requested a little too gleefully.
I was passed out on the couch when he returned with my food. I vaguely remember making a supreme effort to eat a single cinnamon twist. Then nothing. Apparently incoherent babbling was involved.
The Crunchwrap, I fear, met a sad fate last night in Jon's tummy. But the cinnamon twists were waiting for me this morning, and weren't too bad.
The glass of milk (2%, ha) was likewise delicious. As an aside, the glass it's in was obtained under questionable circumstances from a Mr. Donut outlet in Tokyo. The lion's mane is actually a donut. I can't recommend their donuts enough if you are in the area, especially their green tea-flavored, custard-filled ones. The odd shape is really endearing, even if it kind of reminds me of a baby's teething ring.
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