Dammit Janet. After the writer’s strike, I was totally primed to boycott Grey’s Anatomy, and they go and play the cancer couple in love card. Bastards. SO not fair.
<insert awkward segue>
And speaking of all things medical, between you Doogs, my boyfriend Web M.D., and my city friend Harris — who called me after reading the heart attack post, with a “Dude. You totally have gallstones.” — you got my attention. And when Harris mentioned that nuts and olives can be a trigger for gallstone attacks … well …
… considering I bought a jumbo jug of nuts at Costco last week, and ate half the container in the days before the ER incident, not to mention a fair amount of olives … let’s say I’ve been sufficiently persuaded to consult a doctor. I’ll give it a week or so.
Had I known this Wednesday, when I was working the Women’s Conference, I might have altered my eating habits.
Starting with eliminating the consumption of 10 pounds of olives. (That’s part of the actual conference grazing ground above.)
I still would’ve participated in the cheese fountain feed, which in theory, grosses me out, but in reality is DREAMY.
By the time the event was over, you better believe I was having fantasies of utilizing that fountain for a hot and cheesy foot bath. And after two glasses of red, the fantasy expanded to a full-blown, full-body queso dip bath. With a side of tortilla chips. And maybe some salsa. Nom nom nom.
And speaking of dreamy …
Double dammit. Now Grey’s ends the episode with Meredith and McDreamy in an impossibly romantic candlelit floor plan of their future house on a hilltop?!? I don’t want to love it, but I do.
They just keep SUCKIN’ me back in. My food fantasies and I are goin’ to bed.