Tropical Depression: noodles and panties Ok, I'm totally down with the "life is great" bandwagon. I am amazingly fortunate. I feel like a bottle of coke that someone shook up and left in the sun I am so goddamn happy.
But see, I have this problem...Noodles. Ramen, particularly. I love the stuff. The fresh stuff. Nice fresh handmade noodles in a rich tangy miso broth with some real char siu on top (oh damn you, Pork!). No corn (I know, corn?) or mung bean sprouts but a little bit of cabbage and some green onions is fine. So why, why, why does it piss me off? Every time I go out for noodles with someone I love we end up arguing. (this situation also extends occasionally to Pho) Arguing over something stupid, usually just the result of my stubbornness or sensitivity.
"Sorry sweetheart, you can go for noodles, I'll be eating meat jun at the Korean joint next door. It's better for our relationship, I swear." Who is gonna buy that?
On the other hand I only recently discovered that I have been buying the wrong size underwear my whole life. I have a small, square, boy-butt though the rest of me is quite womanly. I have had saggy-ass Large panties for as long as I can remember. But then at Christmas someone gifted me with a cute pair of Mediums. There has been a paradigm shift. I have a cute ass, and that makes all the difference in the world.