Sue Me. (And Tofu Me.)

Last night I sat down to write what I’m sure would have been a har-dee-har-har post about everything I touch in the supermarket turning to clearance gold. You would have laughed, I’m sure. And you’ll still be able to. Just not today.

Because as I was in the middle of writing last night, my roommates decided we needed to go to El Chile to hang out.

Because I guess I needed a very tall glass of (sweet, delicious) sangria.

Because I was able to taste a mole I actually liked (!) for once, and cry out in exultant joy that there was a restaurant in Austin serving flour tortillas just like the ones I learned how to make in Mexico.*

*Should not be surprising, considering our proximity.

Oh, and because my roommate David has been wanting me to hang out with his cute friend for a while now, unbeknownst to me until recently.

Because after we went to dinner & drinks, I had to drop off my three children (AKA roommates) at the dive bar down the street so they could continue on with their “we don’t have 9-5″ lives.

Because I used my “yes, I AM somewhat mom-like” carpooling skills [slash] game*(?) AND stayed up past my bedtime to drive the cute boy home since he, too, had to wake up at a reasonable hour.

*Who am I kidding? I have no game.

Like Frank Sinatra in Guys and Dolls, all I can do is sing….and say, “Sue me.”

I chose boys over blogging.*

It’s like Gingerbread Soy Pudding!

[Yes, I had some when I got home last night. And then I had a dream where the entire cast of Top Chef All-Stars came to my college reunion and Fabio gave me a pink bejeweled bracelet.

I do not think there is any causal relationship.]