My Italian admirer was at the gym again. He was very entertaining this time, dancing to Maniac, and regaling me with NYC Italiano crime stories. I almost started dancing with him, but I could barely walk after working out. I didn't skip leg day, bro.
Starving after my workout, I came home and cooked up more chicken hearts. And greens, of course. According to Einstein, I shouldn't leave raw chicken in the fridge for four days. I probably shouldn't have texted him with "I'm dying from chicken poisoning, how long do I have left to live?" It's okay though, I sent him a pre-death photo and asked that he remember me fondly.
[Speaking of pre-death records, have you guys watched this video about the herpetologist who documented his own death from a snakebite? It's morbidly fascinating. I love that he slept well after being poisoned. Who knew that's all it took to get good sleep? The scientist in me wonders if he had taken clotting meds, would that have saved him? Or did he absolutely need the antivenin that he didn't have access to?]
I feel fine at the moment. But Einstein informed me I could still die in the next 48 hours. See how smart he is?? :) If I do die, it was nice knowing you. Even if I don't die, it's been nice knowing you. And stay away from four day old raw chicken, even if you cook it.
What are the odds that I'm fine and didn't learn my lesson from this incident? I'm guessing that as hunger hits, as per usual, I'll get less strict about what I eat. I've also learned that years of ingesting probiotics have helped me with my reckless meat storage and ingestion. In other words, don't try this at home, kids.
Let me also reiterate that I hate time changes. Kitten and I are all discombobulated and fucked up with our sleep schedules. We keep waking at 5 am. Of course, she starts yowling at me around 6 pm that it's time to go upstairs and get ready for bed and snuggles. By 7 pm, she's lost her ever-loving mind if I haven't migrated upstairs yet. Like I said, all fucked up.
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