This is not going to be a blog about cancer or about doctors or about nutrition...Nor will this be a "female" kinda blog...if you want that, you can go check out my archives of Spinster in Distress. No, this blog is all about the random things I think throughout my day, whether I'm at school or work or at a restaurant or having a mammogram...I happen to be having a mammogram tomorrow...so I will be talking about that experience, but not until tomorrow. For now, let us talk about restaurants.
Tonight I was convinced by my dad to give Applebee's another shot after a less than memorable experience about a year before. I couldn't remember what I had, which means it was not good, but then it meant it couldn't have been that bad either. So, I went with my parents, hoping to get a decent chocolate milkshake and some french fries...really, that's all I wanted. I didn't see french fries alone on the menu, so I ordered some french dip sliders and couldn't imagine the sliders would be so bad. Silly girl. When my food arrived, I picked up on of the sliders and smelled something familiar...hmm...what could it be? I took a bite and was reminded of pepperoni pizza...yes, really. I decided to put ketchup on the tiny sandwich and dipped in what I thought was au jus, but when I took that first and last bite of au jus, it was so greasy, I gagged. It tasted like pepperoni grease...and it was not jus, but grease. I didn't want to stop eating, as my parents were paying and I didn't want to be rude, so I lathered it in ketchup and got through it. HOW hard is it to put some roast beef on a bun and some au jus from a packet in a bowl? I mean, come on. I didn't expect much...but I'll tell you, what I got was the stuff of nightmares. I had some serious post traumatic stress until I finally purged it out of me. I know, it's gross...but I really had no choice. No more Applebee's for me.
Anyhoo...I'm sure the nervous stomach had something to do with not being able to stomach Applebee's...why not? Tomorrow I go in to get a mammogram and an ultra sound. I have had some scary symptoms for a while and although my doctor is certain that I'm crazy, I'm making her check anyway. I'm scared and my boobs hurt and I'm hoping they do not find anything. I already plan on getting a second opinion but gotta get through this first.
I'm bored with telling this story again and again. Going to watch a documentary on Madagascar after I help a fellow student who's first language is Nepali. Art History should be less words and more art, if you ask me. Art teachers sometimes think they know more than anyone else...I disagree. Art is always about perception. Goodnight.
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