I’d really like to know about rules and ethics concerning food-plagiarism, or if it’s totally okay for me to make Nutella crepes a mere two days after having eaten them in a restaurant. Does it make it any less unimaginative that I added strawberries and topped it with whipped cream when the restaurant totally didn’t, instead electing to just throw some pecans at it and call it a day? What about if the only reason I changed it is that I didn’t have any pecans? Is it okay since I made my own crepes, which is apparently a process only slightly less difficult than amending the constitution? What if I told you I paired the crepes with Eggbeaters and leftover spiral ham that were scrambled together with copious amounts of black pepper? What if I just provided you with another picture of said crepes so that when you get lonely at night and can’t find any interweb spots that will let you see naked pictures of the cast of Saving Private Ryan without your credit card, which is in your pants, which you’re not wearing, obviously, that you have something to keep you warm and inappropriately aroused?
I went at these things like a spider monkey. Honestly. They tasted like dessert, but were technically brunch. Kind of like the Leapster learning center that plays just like a video game but is actually a great way to teach kids to spell, which they will promptly forget as soon as they get ahold of spellcheck and learn to be unforgivably lazy. I don’t use spellcheck, never have. I’d like to say that it’s all a function of my superior intellect, but it’s actually a function of the fear that I’d try to type the word “asswad” and accidently end up replacing it with the word “assured” or something like that. Horrifying.
My over-consumption wasn’t a problem, though, since Chris and I got up at 7 and ran 13 miles in a time so incredibly fast that I’d go so far as to say that we “weren’t walking”! Suck on that, Olympic Committee.