This morning I'm wondering, "When did expensive equate with informed?"
Dumb, dumb, dumb.
The salad came without croutons, and without that deep fried chunk of battered mozzarella that accompanied every one else's, so I thought, "Wow, they know."
Then the dinner came, the petite sirloin atop a bed of pommes frites--coated french fries, I'm certain deep fried in the same pot as the battered mozzarella ball. Curse the French!
I didn't eat the fries, but I did eat the sirloin off the top. And this morning I wonder if the shooting pains in my abdomen are just sympathy pains for my own stupidity?
Well, we'll see if I sleep the day away...
Dumb, dumb, dumb. Totally my own fault.
Don't Ask? Dumb Bell!