*gas? wow. intense.

So. No blog this eve. Turns out the Evil Empire at the gasco decided I need a new meter for the purpose of ... metering. I have no idea what happens on the Woodside. There could be hamsters running the air-conditioner. In fact, I'm almost certain there's an elf keeping the plumbing from imploding. Unfortunately, I think the elf is dead.

Regardless, no gas means no oven, and no oven means no cooking. BAH. Humbug.

But! Good news! The (former) Non-Reader fed me, and damn was it good. In fact, not only did she feed me, she single-handedly cured me of my anti-tofu stance. This was delicious. And T(f)N-R is a strict advocate to the simple/easy rule, so you know it's a winner.

She used firm instead of extra-firm, which it turns out is my texture threshold for foodstuffs. All that "extra" just lends a mouthfeel akin to flavorless Peeps. My verdict? Delicious. I may have some competition soon.

Whaddya think, Yaya? The dark lord of the kitchen, Darth Vardar, coming soon to an Interweb near you.

Due purely to her powers of persuasion, the sis also lured me to Wal Mart, more than once the scene of my undoing. And while I still abhor the place, I did manage to get dinner, sundries, and some ridiculous sunscreen for less than 50 bucks. I also got to overhear the greatest one-sided cell phone conversation of all time:

Woman in hair-dye aisle: "Hello?"

Pause to listen.

"Come pick you up? Where are you?"

Pause.

"In jail!?"

Looooooooong pause.

"Well I can't right now, hon, I'm at Wal Mart."

Click.

K, inside her head: "HE ONLY GETS THE ONE CALL, WOMAN!"

Maybe I'm underestimating Wal Mart. I just need to approach it like it's a nutty reality program where none of the participants are aware they're on TV. Like The Joe Schmo Show, with all the obliviousness but none of the ethical disintegration.