30 August 2005: The Voice of Satan

On August 21st I went to the Khan's birthday party, which was delightful. The Khan's mother was visiting from New Jersey, and she had cooked enormous quantities of fabulous food for the party. She is one of those mothers who loves to feed people - loves it so much that she is willing to resort to physical violence to do it. She has been force-feeding me since I was 13. Fortunately, the food that she cooks is delicious; I only resist eating it so that when she manages to get me to do so, she'll feel like she's really accomplished something.

When I left the party, she made me take a huge pile of food home with me - a gigantic plate of sausages covered in homemade barbecue sauce with roasted peppers and onions on top, and a plastic bag stuffed with about seven or eight pounds of mashed potatoes.

I ate the sausages the next day; they were great. The mashed potatoes were probably great, too, but I didn't eat them because they were made with butter and cream, and I don't eat milk products. Dragon Lady ate some, but there's only so much of such a thing that one can eat. There's still at least six pounds left, and they smell like they've gone quite rancid now.

I really should just throw them out.

But there's this voice in the back of my head that's been whispering to me all morning, saying, "Oh, come on, you can't just throw them out... there's got to be something more fun you can do with a six-pound bag of rancid mashed potatoes..."

Note to Dragon Lady: If I haven't thrown them out by Friday, get me to an exorcist.