Monday, February 07, 2011
It was a record-breaking 77 degrees here yesterday and 75 on Saturday. We did bike Saturday, but I'm afraid it didn't get anywhere near to making up for the calorie-consumption festival that was Superbowl Sunday. Also, there was a trip to Sizzler in there somewhere.
Yes, I said Sizzler.
I hadn't been in about 20 years, and my parents had a coupon (don't get me started) so we converged upon one of the only Sizzlers that wasn't closed 15 years ago due to the population's sheer hatred of Sizzler restaurants.
In case you're wondering, nothing has changed at Sizzler in the last 20 years.
Nobody salads like Sizzler. Really? I can think of at least four salad bars that are better, off the top of my head. Also, taking a bit of a liberty by turning the word salad into a verb, aren't we?
Long story short, my brother-in-law almost went postal and my husband and I almost left the restaurant before we even ordered and my dad's lips all but disappeared, which is the facial expression he takes on when aggravated or dispensing unwanted advice.
But we all stayed and enjoyed our meals, to the extent that you can enjoy a hamburger that has two bone fragments in it. And I only ate half.
Sizzler -- you will rue the day you crossed me!!
Anyway. Then yesterday was the Superbowl of course. And we had beef fajita nachos and chicken strips and cookies and beers and wine and there was a veggie platter in there somewhere, and guacamole and Doritos and some other stuff but it's all a blur.
And it was warm. All the windows open warm. The last time my team won the Superbowl was 1989 and it was cold. I distinctly remember it.
And now it is Monday and Jillian Michaels is laughing at me. I can hear her. I am going to kick your big white butt is what she's saying. She doesn't like when I overeat.