Tuesday, September 23, 2003


You'd think vanilla is fairly innocuous. It smells like summertime and it has such a nice name: Vanilllllllllaaaa. Okay, that said, I think I have vanilla poisoning.

I made French toast this morning and put in WAY too much vanilla, ate it anyway, and now feel like I'm going to hurl. I called my mother long-distance for advisement, and she told me that vanilla is about 45% alcohol. So I essentially had a shot before driving into work this morning. I was wondering why I was in a good mood at the beginning of the day.

Now, of course, I'm paying for it. Seriously, my mouth is dry and my head hurts and everything. It shouldn't surprise me that I'm nauseated, as my body reacts to every single upset in my life-- stress, pelvic exams, war, high winds-- with the need to spew.

The lesson from all this: Never ever trust the French.

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