Today was a typical Tuesday. I spent the majority of it e-mailing with my friend Blair. Our correspondence consisted of tantalizing topics such as the oncoming snowstorm; getting teeth cleaned, being insatiably hungry all day and the boy I have a crush on.
After work I dragged my butt to the gym where I proceeded to watch Down Home with the Neely's on The Food Network while on the elliptical. Aside from the oxymoronic fact that I watched them fry chicken while I exercised, I love this show because I think they are so full of shit. I don’t believe for one second that they not only have a loving marriage, but that they sensuously—almost sexually, cook together that way for real. Mrs. Neely can’t really believe that she holds onto her husband through means of her cooking. We all know that after his grilled peach with mascarpone, Mr. Neely leaves her with the dishes while he hits up the clubs with the models. But that’s just me…
I’m now going to spend the remainder of my already exciting day with a glass of red wine and Family Guy.
Love,
Abby
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