Taste of the Orient.

4 Sep

I have developed an insatiable appetite for Chinese food lately. Remember how obsessed with Mexican cuisine I have been for the past two years? Well, the novelty has finally worn off, it seems. As of late, I have been daydreaming about fried rice and crab rangoon day in and day out. Today was no different. It’s Friday, Trent and I both finished working before 10 pm for once in our lives, and the rest of our day was open to consume Asian food and social media entertainment.

On the way home, I picked up Hunan Express takeout. Their pork dumplings are something to holler about. We also got general tso chicken, fried rice, and crab rangoon. Mmmm. So delicious. If it were feasible, I could eat this every day for the next year. Then I would switch over to Italian, because that’s what I do. My insides, as usual, were pissed off at my dietary choices. Let’s just say that as quickly as the “Hunan Express” arrived, it “departed.”

Yeah, let’s just say that.

In equally disturbing news, as I Googled the above photo to compliment my Chinese food discussion, this photo popped up:

What. The. Hell. Why—Someone tell me why. Actually, don’t.

I never eat with chopsticks. It’s not that I don’t know how to do it, or that I feel like a poser when I do, but it’s just not as efficient as a fork. Why eat three grains of rice at a time when I can pile an entire forkful into my mouth soaking in sweet and sour sauce? You can’t do that with chopsticks. You just can’t. Why would I want to put myself through that sort of torture when I am craving Great Wall so badly I can barely wait to shovel it into my mouth? You Asians don’t make any sense.

Especially those of you who whip up that mouse-pastry up there. Sickos.

The weather today was a brisk 73 degrees and blustery. I was so pleased. I actually wore pants. For once, I didn’t sweat to death walking from my apartment to my truck. Rolling down the windows in my vehicle did not result in me baking like a rotisserie chicken; it was glorious. This weather needs to stay. I will raise my voice at Mother Nature if she changes her tune any time soon.

The forecast for Tuesday is 94 degrees. Expect screaming.

Well, time for the Hunan Express to “leave the station” again if you know what I’m saying.



Jeremy: “I’m really excited about your wedding.”

Me: “Me too! Nine weeks. That’s long enough for breast implants to ‘get settled in,’ right?”

Jeremy: “I hope so, or else my dress isn’t going to fit.”


One Response to “Taste of the Orient.”

  1. Rachel Hayes September 5, 2010 at 7:18 pm #

    This is so funny because brandon just showed me a lovely picture you sent him the other day titled “Hunan Express”.. Ha 🙂

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