Apr. 15th, 2004

apocalypsos: (courtesy of purple_smurf)
... and stupid Italian restaurants are not helping me.

So today at work, we ordered Italian food from this new place, and I got shrimp scampi. Notice how I say that like I actually got the shrimp scampi. Oh, no ... apparently, this place was so fancy, you actually have to order the pasta separate or else you don't get it.

What did I get? A foil pasta tin with a ladleful of white wine sauce and five puny shrimp. You know, in the real world, shrimp scampi actually comes with the fucking pasta. *seethes*

And I'm not even going to get into the price. For the amount I paid for the shrimp scampi I didn't get, not only should it be carried to my side by Orlando Bloom and Johnny Depp, it should cure cancer, cancel Third World debt, eliminate cellulite, regrow the rainforests, bring back the dodo from extinction, communicate telepathically, win the Nobel Peace Prize, travel to galaxies far, far away, and be able to tell me in at least five different languages the winning Powerball numbers for Saturday night.

Urgh. Well, at least the last couple of days without Internet in my room have killed my writer's block. It was much like killing Rasputin, apparently, in that it had to be poisoned, shot, stabbed, smothered, and drowned before it wasted away from constant email updates. Hell, maybe that's what finally killed Rasputin.

EDIT: Oh, I would get a huge pile of work the second I find out the computer I work at has been hooked up to the Internet. *headwall*

Is it time for me to go back to Pennsylvania yet? *whimpers*

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