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I never watch Top Chef, but I caught a couple episodes last week before the big finale. I have to say the part I enjoyed the most was watching Marcel's big, villainous hair. Something about judging food doesn't make me feel as involved as an audience member as say, fashion design or interior decorating. I know an ugly or pretty dress when I see one, but I have no idea if the food tastes good or not. I have no choice but to trust the judges.

I'm having typing trouble. Grendel shredded the tip of my left index finger when we were playing "catch" a couple nights ago and whenever I take the band-aid off the scratches pop open and start bleeding again. Gross, isn't it? He didn't mean it. He doesn't know his own strength sometimes. (How I'm going to wash my hair today I have no idea. You know like, when you get a papercut on your finger, then wash your hair, and the strands get caught in the cut? I hate that so much.)
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After you've read something, please consider leaving a line or two on Goodreads and Amazon. The authors appreciate it!

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