If you follow me on Twitter (and if you don’t. Well. That’s awkward.) then you know what kind of shenanigans I’ve been up to.
All sorts of sordid things, really. Most of which have to do with which nerve goes through which of the thousand holes in the skull. And/or the real housewives. Sometimes both in the same tweet.
I like to walk on the wild side.
This weekend, I witnessed a miracle.
Hmm, what’s that you say? Did I learn all of the foramina (i.e. holes) of the skull and which cranial nerves, arteries, and veins pass through them?
Um. No.
Did I figure out how to differentiate one indiscriminate pink-ish area on a gross specimen of the brain from all of the other indiscriminate pink-ish areas?
Absolutely not. That would be preposterous. Necessary. But preposterous.
I don’t like to mess with existentialism this early in the morning. But let me ask you a question.
Creamy vs. crunchy. Which would you choose?
Upon reaching the farmer’s market last week, I was greeted by an alien life form.
(I can’t wait to see what kind of google search hits THAT statement yields.)
This was strange on many accounts. But mainly because they normally only present themselves to me within the confines of Weill Cornell Medical College lecture halls. They call themselves “medical students”. But I know what they really are.
When Michael crawled into bed at 3:30 last night smelling of double malt whiskey, ashtrays, and downright debauchery, I knew that something was up.
He had an episode of Iron Chef to film in the morning. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned about my adorable, bald, alarmingly imaginary husband. It’s that nothing comes in the way of Iron Chef. In a “bros before hoes” kind of way.
Welcome to Eats Well With Others, where we take a vegetable-and-cupcake laden approach to life (always with a bit of laughter on the side)!
