Only my mother sends us 4 boxes of Girl Scout cookies…and times their arrival perfectly with the start of Lent (though, I suppose, we’ll be the only people with 4 boxes of Girl Scout cookies left in, say, mid-April).
If I were a good roommate, I would have read that the pork I’m cooking for dinner needs to marinate for 2 hours before cooking…before 4:30 in the afternoon. And I wouldn’t keep defrosting the mostly-defrosted pork so I can have more time to blog.
The ISF office is one of the more entertaining (and, for what it’s worth, honest) places on campus to hang out.
No matter how hard I try, my favorite black shoes just smell. Which means I should go shoe shopping with Monica and Laurel on Saturday. Except that Saturday is already way more full of events than it should be.
The “real” pronounciation of “mojo” is “mo-ho” (according to my cookbook).
One should really tie the color of one’s clothing to the event for which one is dressing.
The microwave is calling me and I cannot defrost the pork anymore, because then it will be cooking, and it will not yet have marinated for its 2 hours.