#100BM Day 23

I’m totally wiped out and considering heading to bed at a time that would embarrass a nine-year-old, but I don’t have elves to do my laundry, so I will continue to fight sleep until I have clean underwear enough to get me through the week. Bah.

But I have a food recommendation à la Sandra Lee, frequently my drunken, delightful nemesis.

Burrito goo poutine.

I don’t even like regular poutine (I know, I should be giving up my citizenship about now), but the combination of burrito goo (black beans, corn, salsa, and, if you’re so inclined, chicken left to bubble together in a crockpot all day – shred the chicken at the end, meateaters), cheese curds, and oven fries was A1 perfect for a rainy night of early-warning hormonal whateverness.

This kind of thing is why I find it hilarious when people mistakenly think I’m all classy n’shit.

Perhaps if I was closer to my hillbilly roots, I’d have used Velveeta instead, mind you.

2 thoughts on “Alchemy.

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