The only way for me to express to you how much I hate the word "foodie" would be through some sort of modern dance performance with heavy drumming and ear splitting mechanical sounds for music that ended with the dancer killing herself in a messy and violent fashion involving being able to rip her own guts out and stomp them into the ground before dramatically spreading her arms and legs out to be broken by the real devil and then collapsing into a squishy heap of body parts that automatically smelled like it had been lying in a hot bog during a sunny spell for about a week. I might be downplaying my hatred here but that's all I have come up with so far. Also, your photos of food wouldn't pass a discount diner menu standard, so freaking stop! People make livings by doing weird shit to food in order to make it photograph as appetizing and you do not have that ability. Also, we all freaking eat, and according to me people who call themselves "foodies" are mostly people who just eat out most of the time for what ever reason and need to share their dining loneliness. Stop. Just make a post which says "Hey! I like to eat a variety of food, who wants to be adventurous with me? No phone photos, promise." and have an authentic person to person experience.
Almost rivaling my hatred for the faux word "foodie" would be taking photos of one's own feet. I did it once in college with a couple of friends, and it was only a photo of our shoes in a circle on the pavement yet I was so nauseated by the whole ordeal. Now it is a very unfortunate "thing" to such an extent that there are trends. Holy, poke my eyes out please. Worse than feet in shoes? Feet without shoes. If I lived the next 50 years without seeing a photo of someone's hideous toes on a beach I would live a happy and fulfilled life. Nothing says "I'm living such a miserable life that on the one day which appears to be nicer than most I photographed my crusty knobby toes to make it all seem worthwhile." like one of those photos from the beach. Please. Do. Not. Pretty much my level of respect for a person is parallel to the absence of foot pictures on their Facebook feeds.
Guess who had a bad experience with another specialist yesterday?
This one was a neuro-psychologist who tried to convince us that all of the husband's problems are from sleep apnea, diabetic recklessness and depression. After spending a few hours testing the husband and another couple talking to us this was his takeaway. Then as we stood to leave his office he remarked "Of course this wouldn't explain symptoms A,B and C, I don't know about them." Guess what else! I did not turn around and punch his little howdy doody face, and for that I am proud. But I am still incredibly frustrated and I wish I could find the contract that all of the doctors signed which says every one of them will try leading us toward a different diagnosis and burn it. It almost feels like someone is trying to pull a prank on us, except for the part where the husband is genuinely going down hill and we are wasting time chasing down too many paths.
It was unfortunate because earlier in the day I had met a pit bull puppy with a very sweet young man owner and I was all happy warm and cuddly after falling in love with the puppy. Damn doctor spoiled the mood!