polymorphism (polymorphism) wrote,

universal plot # 9: girl meets shishkebab

Yesterday was good. After I got home from a good day at work, nekouken had a friend coming over, so there was picking up, and then we all went to Jester's. I haven't been in a long time, and they're having an anniversary sale, so I decided to try something new. Because of the sale, I ordered a cheaper than usual italian sausage as a backup in case I didn't like the experimental order of pork shishkebab. They it laid out with artistic prettiness - nekouken said it was the nicest looking thing he'd ever seen from there and I agreed. Pita wedges, onion slices, tomato slices, those thin black olives you get on greek salad (not marinated, unfortunately!) potato wedges, rice that was orange for some reason, and really well-seasoned pork chunks (still not used to "kebabs" that don't come on sticks), all drizzled in a yummy olive-oil-based marinade, with some kind of sour-cream-based sauce that was not tzatziki on the side. I don't know if it's always that decorative, or if it was because I asked for a recommendation between that and the fajita, so they knew it was my first time ordering it. Will order it again sometime and see if it is as pretty and as good. Even though I liked theh kebab, I also still ate half the sausuage and all of its bun, which I was initially resisting, because all I had for lunch was salad and I was starved, and I was evidently craving bread.

When we got home from that icy walk, nekouken chose Return of the Killer Tomatoes to watch, which she had never seen, so I joined them, because it had been a while, and I have long loved for its smart stupidness, as well as the hilarity of watching an exceptionally young George Clooney in the role of the doofy/cowardly/horndog best friend. Then our guest headed home, and I did some journal writing - it seems that finding a job has really helped with the writing difficulty I was experiencing, though I still intend at some point to do the capsule reviews I planned to break through it - before going to bed with Isaac Asimov. Well, Lije Baley, anyway; I don't know what stage of decomposition The Good Doctor will have reached, but I don't want him on my sheets regardless.
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