Vanilla

You'd think vanilla is fairly innocuous. It smells like summertime and it has such a nice name: Vanilllllllllaaaa. Anyway, this morning I gave myself vanilla poisoning.

I made French toast for breakfast and accidentally dumped in way too much vanilla, ate it anyway, and then became in immediate danger of hurling. This required professional medical advisement, so I called my mommy, and she told me that vanilla is about 45% alcohol. So essentially I had a shot before driving into work this morning. Thus explains such an excellent mood on a Tuesday morning.

And now there's a hangover. My mouth is dry and my head hurts and everything. It shouldn't surprise me that I'm nauseated, as my body reacts to every single upset in my life-- stress, pelvic exams, war, high winds-- with the need to spew.

This is what comes of trusting the French.


September 23, 2003

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Mary Beth is an introvert.

She is eager to communicate but prefers doing so via email, a giant stage, or intense conversation about Important Things.

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