YUM and yikes


Note: Every breaded & fried fish sandwich, everywhere, no matter what they call it on the menu, be it at the lowliest diner or the chic-est of brasseries, is termed by the discriminating diner as a *FISHWICH*.

I am currently enjoying a reheated *FISHWICH* from last night's late-nite pilgrimage to IHOP with TJ.

Also note, all fried items, when reheated, must be reheated in a stove, on a piece of aluminum foil or a metal pan of some sort. Never in a microwave--horror of horrors. Too many quality french fries have died an early, futile death in the stagnant and terrifying chamber of a microwave. Never, never again.


Mmmm.

Oh, and I got a new job. No more working here...

...say hello to here...

Providing, of course, I don't burn the place down or shoot food out my nose at an upcoming "trial run" later this week. Eesh. I'm nervous 'cos I have to give notice at my current job--which, admittedly, I don't particularly mind losing, but still, being unemployed & broke is sucky--but I have to basically let them know I'm gonna take another job, 'cos I have to take off almost all of Thursday and Friday to do this "trial run." And then what if she decides not to hire me? I'm out of a job.

I'm a little spooked, but I have to keep reminding myself I'm not married to my current gig. I'm just always afraid of change. Hopefully that fear will diminish in time.


Anyway, *FISHWICH*. Yeah.