Leftover quesadilla, chopped sausage, salsa, Sriracha, and a little curry paste. Squeeze of lime. It's better than doing you-know-what. And no, I do not go up to random attractive women to dreamily lisp those words. Though maybe I should.
My non-existent love life would change immensely if I offered quesadillas.
It would probably go from bad to worse.
From just zero to negative.
Exciting!
My apartment mate has decided that when I come home following the angio- plasty/stent, there should be roast duck. And far be it from me to turn down such a lovely idea. My cardiologist would probably advise that I lay off the rich meats as part of both recovery and life style changes to avoid future medical issues ....
But, to be honest, I haven't had a grease burger in years, and naturally tend toward a high vegetable content.
So a bit of roast duck, then, to celebrate a major life event.
Besides, if I were to tell my apartment mate that I should instead have boiled vegetables and tofu, she would be horrified. "What daemon has possessed you", she would exclaim, "to make you sound like a Caucasian yuppie?"
She's Cantonese American, and often quite utterly appalled by white people and their food-related neuroses.
I was in the food industry for several years, so I am too.
My imaginary love-life includes no vegetarians.
Or gluten-phobic individuals.
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