I broke loose from J's maddening fish ban (he claims a piece of my bland mahi-mahi was rancid this summer) and treated myself to a nice piece of salmon last night. I had forgotten how much I love fish. I just devoured the leftover bit, cold from the fridge, and it was just as yummy.
It's the simplest thing in the world--take a 3" piece of salmon fillet, top it with a teaspoon of pesto and a few bits of parmigiana reggiano, et voila! 25 minutes at 425, uncovered, and bliss shall be yours.
And yes, it's better if it's organic and wild, which it claimed to be. But then again, I bought it at Fairway, which also claimed that its corn was both local and sweet. What a waste of shucktime that was. Snort.
Speaking of snorting, I got the invitation for my 25th high school reunion yesterday. I decided early on (given that I hated the bitches who ran my class) I wouldn't bother until the 25th, and I stuck to that. Not exactly an issue, given that I was never actually invited before. Well, this year I made the cut, and those ninnies are wimping out. It's a Friday night high school football game, for God's sake, and then Saturday they're meeting up at a bar.
In other words, if you're from out of town, which I am, why bother? Long live their little clique of princess bitches. May they all have painful mammograms. Or something.