That's what I told him I smelled like the other day. Just took a shower and I can smell it again. Coach wants chicken alfredo. Who the hell yearns for chicken alfredo? It's such a boring dish! But I'm going to make it for him. Christ. I'm going to cheat and buy the sauce. He'll never know. I'm not invested in this enough to be making anything for anyone that requires heavy cream and fresh parmesan. FUCK that.
I should be at the gym. I should be working out. I never can make myself go when she isn't home and she's in Vegas today. I do have laundry going and chicken thawing. I am working here and there. I just don't want to face cleaning the kitchen only to dirty it again by making dinner. I haven't eaten anything today but there was an oreo on my nightstand so I'm thinking perhaps I'll just skip food until dinner. At which point I will not be eating chicken alfredo. Stupid carb-loading football players. He starts coaching tonight. Apparently school starts next week. God. I'll never see him again.
We're going up to Blackhawk this weekend. Gambling. Probably less gambling and more hotel room. At least that's what I'm hoping. I'm terrible at gambling. Pretty good at hotel room.
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