"Fudge" and "Clotted" Do Not Belong on the Same Candy Box

I finally got out of the house today.

Up until today, the only places I had been this week were the dentist, the podiatrist, and the Verizon store. I decided it was time to do something even remotely productive, and I did sort of need a new TV, so I recruited a friend and we set out to find one.

I ended up missing the turn into the shopping center with the appliance store and I didn't really feel like navigating a left turn in five lanes of traffic so we ended up going to Wegmans (a major Northeastern grocery chain). Of course, neither one of us needed (or could really afford) food, but it's always fun to shop.

After sampling the day's cheese selections we moved on to the International Aisle. There we found a plethora (50 points for me for using "plethora" in a sentence) of delightful and not-so-delightful treats like "Clotted Cream Fudge," "Turkish Delight," "[Insert Asian Script Here]," and Marmite.

Marmite = "Yeast Extract" = yeast sludge. Ew. I know it's some kind of delicacy from Down Under, but Harrisburg, PA really doesn't have a large enough Australian community to warrant the sale of Marmite in a major grocery store. And we're above "extracts" here. If we're going to eat a fungus, we're going to eat it whole, dammit. Whatever, it's sort of pretty to look at from far away.

This is really hard to write while watching Family Guy. Like really hard.

My friend Cait is here and she just decided that we're going to get donuts. She wants breakfast food. But we already had breakfast shrimp at the mall!

We also went to the mall today. We got dinner there. I got Taco Bell, and Cait got "Chinese." The whole food court is just Korean people cooking fake Chinese food and calling it different things like Bourbon Street Grille and Yummy Japan. So she got a plate of shrimp fried rice. Apparently in food-court-speak, a "plate" is between three and four pounds which you then have to dump into a bag and take home, and "shrimp fried rice" is "a shrimp omelette chopped up and tossed with lava-hot rice." Breakfast shrimp.

No donuts. But maybe.

I'll leave you for the day with this.

Update:
We did go for donuts.

There were Virginians there. The dad doesn't "have underwear but [is] good for the night" and he is "going to the WalMart, I reckon" to get new ones. I love having a Super8 motel next to the donut store.