So, yeah. minor background info, i've had some sort of stomach plague all week, and have, at the time of the situation discribed below, had two full meals in four days (i've now had three. woo!).

This started out as me telling Mynona about Grace's eye acting up again, then i side tracked myself. Still, i kind of like where it went in the end.

Garner says (10:03 PM):
we had to go up to hospital today, grace's eye's acting up again
Garner says (10:04 PM):
by the time the appointment was done with, it was about 4pm, and i couldn't remember if i'd eaten anything yet today or not
but i had held michael and carried him around, straining my already overstrained shoulder even more, so that probably cancelled out not eating.
wait, do i mean cancelled out? no, made things worse.
Garner says (10:05 PM):
so after grace got some horrible sort of sandwhich from the hospital cafeteria and could take michael back, i decided to try my luck at the cafeteria
i saw they had some muffins that didn't look like the crappy muffins they usually had. these looked like actual, edible, yummy muffins
and i love muffins.
Garner says (10:06 PM):
all too often i buy a muffin and it's some horrible sort of stodge that doesn't taste particularly good when i eat it, but it makes up for it by lingering around in my mouth and stomach so that i taste the artificial blueberry flavouring for hours afterwards anyway
wait, do i mean makes up for it? no... no i don't
Garner says (10:07 PM):
but these looked like good muffins. so i got in line. someone ahead of me in line got up to the counter. she spoke to the clerk, the clerk produced a box and began filling the box with the lovely, lovely muffins.
a little piece of me died inside. there i was, finally having an appetite and miraculously seeing something i would dearly love to eat, and this bitch stole it out from under me.
Garner says (10:08 PM):
then i noticed the other muffins. one was chocolate (ew), one was something that looked like the italian word for either 'a pastrami sandwhich on rye with garlic and onion', or 'a device used by the inquisition to turn heretical monks into heretical nuns'. i didn't care for that option either. the third remaining muffin option was 'cherry pie with custard'
Garner says (10:09 PM):
this is not, i'll have you know, a common muffin variety.
still, my heart was set on a muffin. so i resolved myself to order this cherry pie muffin and, with god's mercy, enjoy it if it were possible to do so.
Garner says (10:10 PM):
then the girl at the counter spoke again. the clerk produced another box and moved over to the remaining muffins. horror! horror!! but she filled it with chocolate. relief! but wait, the girl gestures again. oh please, oh please be the castrati muffins, please oh sweet lord, on this the eve of the anniversary of the day we celebrate your possible birth based on some calendar that was invented over
Garner says (10:11 PM):
a mellinia and a half after you're supposed to have lived, please let her be asking for the castrati muffins.
no. gone were all the cherry pie muffins, gone to that cunting whore of a woman ahead of me in line.
tragedy.

"If I wanted to read Wuthering Heights, I'd shoot my self."

I've had days that weren't like that. Not many, mind you.

Every fight is a food fight to a cannibal. - Demetri Martin

Cheers, that's hilarious. Totally made my day. If nothing else good happens today at least I will be able to smile at your story.

Dragon's Kingdom - Stop typing "alot" when you mean "a lot"! - Disappointed

This made me feel better, I have contracted my usual Yuletide cold, complete with occasional nosebleed, and had a fuss with my mom and ticked off most of my other family members to one degree or an other while i was visiting out to the farm with my poor old stinky dog, slept through New Year( but so did Adam so I guess that's not too bad) and the big old party (For me and Connor, 50+5) that was going to happen just evaporated. But not getting a decent muffin really really does seem a tragedy when it is happening, I have felt that pain myself.

() ()
( ' ,') "don't eat green potatoes"
(> >) Last words of Mrs. Bertha Sperling
@( )_ )_

What constitutes a good muffin exactly? How do I tell the difference between them and a bad copy?

"Hoher Sinn liegt oft im kindischen Spiel." (Friedrich Schiller)

A bad muffin is one that is high in partially hydrogenated vegetable oils, and uses more 'blueberry flavouring' than actual blueberry.

You will eat this sort of muffin in the morning, when you first get in to work, as it seems like just the sort of thing to start your day off right. By midmorning, you will feel slightly grotty and billious, and taste 'blueberry flavouring' every time you hiccup. By lunch time, you will be overjoyed at the chance to eat something, anything, that will clear the taste of blueberry flavoured muffin from your mouth, stomach, and soul. By midafternoon, you will have taken a ten minute break in a restroom stall to cry quietly, occasionally hiccuping and tasting blueberry flavoured muffin. At quarter to five, you will leave work early as your entire day was a ruined, pathetic mess of unproductivity and hyperacute blueberry flavouring. At home you will drink heavily of a brand of gin that is sold under alternate cover as industrial paint stripper. You will become vomitiously ill, at which point you will taste only regurgitated blueberry flavouring, and it is at that moment that you realize the horrible truth: muffins are both heaven... and hell.

In other news, we were back at the hospital today, and the cafe was well stocked with muffins. I got one of the cherry pie and custard variety. It was... well, I'm not really sure yet. Check back in a few hours and if I'm still tasting cherry pie filling and pouring a tall glass of drain opener, then we'll know what kind of muffin it was.

"If I wanted to read Wuthering Heights, I'd shoot my self."

lol!!!

seriously lol.

PhD Student: Research information sheet

There once was a man named Bruce
Who liked to sit on a spruce
He ate lots of chowder
And yelled at me louder:
"I'm talking to YOU, Mrs. Hughes!"
--> The Literary Genius: Mowgli

It was a good muffin. Not a great muffin (the cherry pie filling was a bit odd, really), but certainly good enough to order again.

"If I wanted to read Wuthering Heights, I'd shoot my self."

Garner, I empathise so much with the Christmas eve trial which you describe so hungrily. I must give you a (virtual) top shelf prize for having included in almost the same breath as the following colourful piece of linguistically charming prose,
Top class.

R

Q. How do you write?
A. One word at a time.

Yeah, I don't often feel 'in the zone' when I'm writing, but there's something about the wonderful magic of muffins, even a muffin denied, that is conducive to good flow.

"If I wanted to read Wuthering Heights, I'd shoot my self."

This kind of thing happens to me all the time. And not just with muffins. *sigh*

Damn Spider pig

Happened to me once when I was buying pastries for a dinner party. The skank behind the counter served a women who got to the counter after me. I was quiet until she started buy up all the pastries. I interrupted their conversation saying, "Ok, it is one thing to skip me in line but if you think I'm going to let her buy up all the pastries before me I will talk to your manager." The other women piped up with, "Oh I'm sorry I didn't know, how many did you need." I was still miffed but I was polite since I did get the pastries I needed.

Time flies like an arrow
Fruit flies prefer a banana

"Skank"

It would seem that the denial, or possible denial, of sweet stuff is all it takes to bring out the dark side. And the Sith went to so much trouble with all that Midichlorian birth/ political double dealing stuff.

R.

Q. How do you write?
A. One word at a time.

"No, little Anakin, you can't have any Tatooine sugar cubes."
"*khhhk* I find your lack of sweets disturbing. *khhhhk*"

"If I wanted to read Wuthering Heights, I'd shoot my self."

Well he did produce a daughter with a couple of scroll buns on the side of her head. A guaranteed way to keep them out of the hands of those evil pastry snatches...

PhD Student: Research information sheet

There once was a man named Bruce
Who liked to sit on a spruce
He ate lots of chowder
And yelled at me louder:
"I'm talking to YOU, Mrs. Hughes!"
--> The Literary Genius: Mowgli