Monday, July 22, 2002

Hi Gobstoppers:

Sorry for the Harry Potter-gone-terribly-awry yesterday. It was so fucking hot and beyond humid, I couldn't think or talk or do anything.

Oh my god, yesterday I had the full Minnesota experience, in such an ishy way. I was at this cutesy cafe in St. Paul--I won't say the name, but it really should be called "Way Overpriced Cafe With Only Three Entree Options and Four Million Cat Paintings."

So, feeling Minnesota, I choose the walleye. Fuck it, I've never had walleye before, why not now kind of thing.

It costs $17.50--the cheapest thing on the menu.

So I start eating, and it tastes kind of the way the air smells around here on close, sultry nights when the lake is hot and and swampy and breathing out over everything--you can smell the lake hanging in the air, on your skin--the water, the pond scum, the fish, the millfoil, all green and fetid and fertile. Just before the wind picks up and the clouds rush in and all the madness breaks loose.

The fish tasted like a lake.

I thought, hmm, yucky.

I make an effort, but the whole food + taste buds + tummy connection is just not coming together. I figure, I guess I'm just not a freshwater fish kind of person. It must be the L.A-ocean thing in my blood. Give me raw salmon and I'll have seven ecstasies.

So I give up and order coffee and this insane chocolate glop that comes in a cup and completely rocks my world twice.

At four in the morning I wake up and my belly hurts, and I'm thinking, oh God, I probably have that endometriosis thing.

And then all day today that stupid fish has been torturing me.

My mom said, that's a bad fish. It was sitting out too long.

I called the Cafe and left a message but they never called back. I think I deserve a bunch of free desserts.

I think that I was right all along not to eat walleye. I mean, why would you ever eat something with such a hideous name in the first place?

Nuff bitching, I HAVE to go watch TV.

loving you is way easier than eating gross crap,


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