Famished

I hate trying to decide what to eat every day.

I never have what I want, and usually end up feeling dissatisfied with what I've chosen. Not always, mind you, as I love to grill steaks - but you can't eat steak every day. (I've tried, trust me.) I'm always up for strange stuff, but it's awfully hard to come by sometimes. (Peaches and Fish, anyone?)

I yearn to live in a larger city where your menu items are more varied. It's sad that I get excited to go to the Mall Food Court in Nanaimo just because they have Greek and Japanese food. There is barely anywhere in this town to even eat Mexican.

As for cooking at home, I have no real reason to bitch. If I wanted something bad enough I could just make it, right? The trouble is that my kitchen is a blank spot in the universe. You can go in there with a great idea for dinner, but the minute you open the fridge, you are lost to the world. Whatever idea you had seems to melt away in a haze of leftovers and Tupperware. Pulling yourself away from that yawning abyss leaves you feeling weak and drained, with only enough energy left for warm Ichiban Noodles.

It's not like I couldn't go a day or two with out food. (I am a chubby guy, remember.) But if I don't eat something, I tend to fall under the power of the Donut, and as compelling as it is, you can only answer that siren song so many times.

Now that I've made myself hungry talking about food, I'm going to attempt a try at the fridge. Wish me luck; I'm going to tie a safety rope to the kitchen faucet - I hope it can handle the strain.
If you don't hear from me for a while - make sure you check all containers before throwing them out.

Later.