My Tummy Hurts Far too Much My stomach is currently full of cheesies. It seems to take well over 24 hours to fully digest my very favourite carbo-laden snack food. The occasion for downing nearly half a bag was the Super Bowl, which I watched on my friend's 54-inch fully-connected HDTV-ready TV. Not a fan of football, I watched for the ads, which were non-too-spectacular (kinda like the game) except for Reebok's "Terry Tate, Office Linebacker", which had us in stitches--watch for the guy playing solitaire getting his just desserts. Catch them all here. Before heading over to watch the game, I went toboganning on Mont-Royal, renting one of those super-cool inner tubes. My screams of delight ensured that everyone stayed out of my way. The night before, I made dinner for eight, cooking up some Grouper Provencal, which was essentially grouper baked with shrimps, fresh tomatoes, garlic, and herbes de Provence. It became exceptionally delicious when I reduced the cooking liquids and added 35% cream. Served with green beans. Num! The night before that, I stayed up far too late talking about death and eating hamburgers at Bistro Duluth. Finally, the night before that, I played music with my mates, ate far too many spare ribs (I bet the cow didn't consider them "spare"), and drank far too much chewy Portuguese wine.

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