Today was my first day trying to eat more organically…or as Jillian says “if it didn’t have a mother or grow from the ground, you don’t eat it!” This is going to suck the big one.
Breakfast was my only victory because I just had oatmeal with flax seeds, which I always eat. Lunch wasn’t so great because it is 97 degrees outside and the northwest doesn’t believe in air conditioning. There was no way I was going to use the stove or oven once I got home from the gym. So I had my turkey wrap, which wasn’t organic, meaning the turkey probably had more steroids in it than Barry Bonds. But it was the best I could do. Since I had technically cheated for lunch, I sucked it up and made organic pasta for dinner. Can’t tell you how it tasted, because I was in a heat-induced coma.
Ballgame
But I did have a great “last supper” while at the baseball game last night. I’m talking about a footlong hotdog and chips!! YUMMY! There was only one thing that threatened to ruin such a fabulous meal: the people sitting next to us. I was already pissed when the couple sat down because it was fucking hot and I wasn't looking forward to swapping sweat with strangers. But then I realized they were drunk, white trash, Blue Jay fans who felt the need to comment (loudly) on every play and every call (“come on Blue, get your eyes checked”).
In about the third inning, the female Blue Jay fan (Jayette?) decided to spread her drunken love beyond the fans in section 148. An usher was walking by our row peddling a trio of treats which he clearly announced, “licorice, ice cream, peanuts!” The Jayette yelled back at him, “I want a hot dog!”
After an uncomfortable silence during which the usher stared, dumbfounded, at the woman, he began walking up the steps to the mezzanine and responded with, “ma’am, I think you need to, eh, go back, um, up there for your damn hot...” And then he was gone. It took another two innings before the woman finally decided she would have to go get the hot dog herself. She was gone for four innings. She got lost.
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