I don't think it's intentional, but a great way to boost the amount of available babies out there is to kill off the birth mother. How do you do that? Serve them things like this.
Yeah. That was one of my hospital dinners. I tried to cut the meat to see if it was at all edible. The butter knife acted like it was on a trampoline and nearly bounced out of the hemosphere. That's when I gently put the lid back on before the beans attacked me.
Around 10pm I was fairly hungry. I asked one of the nurses if there was anywhere I could grab a bite to eat. She eagerly held a sleeping Spawnling while my stapled self waddled slowly and painfully to the elevators and headed to the 24 hour cafeteria. There wasn't much selection, but I grabbed a muffin, a decaf coffee and a ham, cheese and lettuce wrap. At least that's what the package said - I couldn't see the inside as it was entirely covered by the pita wrap.
When I went back upstairs, I settled into a chair with my baby, some pillows, a glass of water, my food and a magazine. It was about a 5 minute or so process, as movement was still fairly painful at that point. I started reading an interesting article, unwrapped my sandwich and took a big bite.
Then I spit out what I could into a napkin and opened up the sandwich for further investigation. This is what I saw.
Note how the lettuce has started its slow absorbtion into the ham, and how the other side of the ham has taken on a lovely greenish colour as a result. There was no sign of any cheese at first; upon closer inspection, the cheese had wormed its way into the pita, turning the inside into a slimy, whitish paste. Yum.
So, after gagging a bit and wondering if I was going to die a slow and painful bad pita sandwich death, I put the thing on the table next to me and washed the horrible taste down with some coffee. Then I noticed the smell. It was god awful, bad-food-from-the-depths-of-french-hospital-cafeteria-hell type stench. I wanted to eat my muffin, but even the gentle banana-nut aroma rising from within its baked goodness couldn't mask the putrid odor coming from the wrap. I had to get up - a great deal of work and pain - and throw the thing out. Not in my room, but in the bathroom off of my room, because it was that pungent.
Naturally, I also snapped a picture. Although there was no need, as I'm permanently scarred and the image of that awful sanwich is etched in my brain for all eternity.
In the morning, I had to hold my breath when I went to the bathroom. Despite it being in a trashcan with a lid, the damn thing still stank to high heaven. Gross.
Want to see what Spawnling is up to? This is him today. Oh, and this is him yesterday. And that is why I've been able to blog two days in a row. Thank you, Spawnling. We won't mention the amount of crying you did while your daddy and I watched House episodes last night, though.
Yeah. That was one of my hospital dinners. I tried to cut the meat to see if it was at all edible. The butter knife acted like it was on a trampoline and nearly bounced out of the hemosphere. That's when I gently put the lid back on before the beans attacked me.
Around 10pm I was fairly hungry. I asked one of the nurses if there was anywhere I could grab a bite to eat. She eagerly held a sleeping Spawnling while my stapled self waddled slowly and painfully to the elevators and headed to the 24 hour cafeteria. There wasn't much selection, but I grabbed a muffin, a decaf coffee and a ham, cheese and lettuce wrap. At least that's what the package said - I couldn't see the inside as it was entirely covered by the pita wrap.
When I went back upstairs, I settled into a chair with my baby, some pillows, a glass of water, my food and a magazine. It was about a 5 minute or so process, as movement was still fairly painful at that point. I started reading an interesting article, unwrapped my sandwich and took a big bite.
Then I spit out what I could into a napkin and opened up the sandwich for further investigation. This is what I saw.
Note how the lettuce has started its slow absorbtion into the ham, and how the other side of the ham has taken on a lovely greenish colour as a result. There was no sign of any cheese at first; upon closer inspection, the cheese had wormed its way into the pita, turning the inside into a slimy, whitish paste. Yum.
So, after gagging a bit and wondering if I was going to die a slow and painful bad pita sandwich death, I put the thing on the table next to me and washed the horrible taste down with some coffee. Then I noticed the smell. It was god awful, bad-food-from-the-depths-of-french-hospital-cafeteria-hell type stench. I wanted to eat my muffin, but even the gentle banana-nut aroma rising from within its baked goodness couldn't mask the putrid odor coming from the wrap. I had to get up - a great deal of work and pain - and throw the thing out. Not in my room, but in the bathroom off of my room, because it was that pungent.
Naturally, I also snapped a picture. Although there was no need, as I'm permanently scarred and the image of that awful sanwich is etched in my brain for all eternity.
In the morning, I had to hold my breath when I went to the bathroom. Despite it being in a trashcan with a lid, the damn thing still stank to high heaven. Gross.
***
Want to see what Spawnling is up to? This is him today. Oh, and this is him yesterday. And that is why I've been able to blog two days in a row. Thank you, Spawnling. We won't mention the amount of crying you did while your daddy and I watched House episodes last night, though.
***
And finally, a big happy birthday to The Madre!! My mother is 50 years old today. Donations to buy her one of those lifts that goes next to the stairs are always appreciated.
You may be wondering how a 50 year old woman ends up with three grandchildren. Simple: My mom had me just before her 20th birthday. Always wanting to follow in her footsteps, I had Intrepid just after my 20th. I had Gutsy at 26 and now Spawnling at 30. Glad I could age you prematurely, mom. That's how much I love you. See you at brunch in an hour! Please don't spit in my food. Not again...
And finally, a big happy birthday to The Madre!! My mother is 50 years old today. Donations to buy her one of those lifts that goes next to the stairs are always appreciated.
You may be wondering how a 50 year old woman ends up with three grandchildren. Simple: My mom had me just before her 20th birthday. Always wanting to follow in her footsteps, I had Intrepid just after my 20th. I had Gutsy at 26 and now Spawnling at 30. Glad I could age you prematurely, mom. That's how much I love you. See you at brunch in an hour! Please don't spit in my food. Not again...