Good food, good meat, good grief did I eat!

I think my planets are all alligned against me. Had a late night yesterday, or last-erday as precocious little Katelyn calls the day before today, and am feeling the effects today. How else do you explain reaching for a washcloth from the cabinet above the toilet, knocking an extra one off the stack, and then flushing it down the old loo? I just hope the sewer gods are lenient because an expensive plumbing bill I do not need.

By the way, if you want a great meal, try the fried asparagus and the steak and lobster combo at Pappas Grill on the Southwest Freeway in Houston. The Hess 97 bottle of red wine was perfect with it, but by this time I can't remember what kind of red it was. Hmmm. Perhaps I had one too many glasses of the smooth red. Even better than the dinner was the company. (Hi, Cindy! Great seeing you again.)

When we arrived at the restaurant, there was a white stretch limo parked out front. As I finished a cell phone conversation, another white stretch limo pulled in. Of course, I scoped out the restaurant to see who might be there. The only person I saw who might have arrived via limo was good old Tom Delay. So was Tom in the limo and his guest in the other? A vehicle the length of a Greyhound bus for each?

Now, I'm a rather simple person. Of course, I wondered why Tom (if in fact he was the limo passenger) couldn't have just jumped in his own car and driven from his house which is mere miles away. Then he could have parked in the parking lot with us peons and walked to the door.

Oh, right.

Enough rambling. Time to sling a few words together in hope they make a scene.

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