|I will starve in the name of grammar
||[Apr. 15th, 2008|01:59 pm]
I was craving roast chicken this afternoon. And pretty much, when my body craves something...that is NOT chocolate or alcohol...I listen to it. 'Cause usually it's craving something reasonably healthy -- suddenly I will NEED beets or tuna or would kill for a chicken thigh (and normally, I really couldn't care less about chicken -- meh) or chickpeas. I figure it's my body's way of telling me I need some kind of trace mineral or vitamin in the target food and since I refuse to take multivitamins, I owe it to my body to pay attention. |
Or...my body could just be d*cking with me. Like Willow, who will knock the dog biscuit out of my hand and just look expectantly at me. Until I get another kind. Which she may take, or may repeat the knocking down. The two of us fascinated, me wondering just how far she'll take it, her wondering how many biscuits she can make me fetch before I lose my temper and tell her to just eat the goddamn biscuit or starve, I don't care!
But the only roast chicken outlet close by, that I know of, is Chicken Out. And they use Springer Mountain chickens which I really, really respect. And I really, really wanted chicken...
But their tag line is: Eat Good.
And the thunder of "No, eat well" in my head was so loud that I went to Baja Fresh just to make it stop.