DAY 13: grades + grad party

Bianca is shamelessly using the finger-biting doggy to lure y'all into giving her all your large Philly cheesesteak samwiches with oodles of melted cheese and mushrooms and nachos. 

<----- Like zat.

Except I'd like to demand for more gooey melted cheese and some more mushroom heads. Hold the catsup, and keep the onion rings to a minimum. And make sure the bun's a soft, chewable kind.

Sorry. I know, really I do, that you're just dying to hear me talk about my grades. But really, I've got a really bad craving right now for a BIG philly cheesesteak sandwich with an excess of melted cheese and mushrooms. I want it so BADLY, I'd trade my Starbucks planner (that j'adore to bits) for a big bite of that cheeeeesy, mushroom-y, meaty goodness in a bun. (Offer's only good 'til I get back my senses.) I crave, I crave!

And I can't do anything about it. It's 1:26AM, and the stores nearby are closed, the kitchen is near my grandparents' bedroom, and I don't have any of the ingredients (save for the mushrooms). I must content myself with staring at Google photos until I nauseate.

What's with this melodrama over a philly? Am I...you know... (insert eyebrow waggle here)? And the answer is... NO. No, I'm not pregnant. No, it's not my time of the month either. No, I'm not depressed. (Well, at least not clinically.) I'm just really hormonal about food. I have food friends (like pizza, pasta, bacon, and chicken) and food enemies (like all sorts of grossly oily things, meatballs, and green, non-leafy vegetables). They are the very-nearly-almost permanent mainstays of their respective categories. I also have food fre-nemies--like fish, chocolate, and milk--whose favor or disgrace rests on which way my mood's pendulum swings.

When I crave for my food friends, it takes me about two hours to get rid of the need to order/bake/cook that particular dish. Sometimes the hormones win, especially when it kicks in in the afternoon. Sometimes, the hormones strike out. Like right now, when I couldn't do anything to assuage it. The verdict? Hormones suck.

ANYHOW. I got my grades this morning after swimming through a sea of people for it. Good thing a friend helped out and braved the mob all by himself, carrying our precious IDs with him. It was unfair, I admit, but sometimes you have to sacrifice one for the many, right?

Any-anyhow, my grades were complete, thank God. Highest were two A-'s. Lowest were B-'s. Pretty all right. I was sorta kinda hoping for an A or two, but apparently we can't always get what we want. What's a girl to do?

Well, I drowned my disappointment in lechon (suckled pig). Tonight was a cousin's grad party, and the pig was huge. So I hacked away at its crispy skin, and gnawed on the well-cooked flesh. 'Twas pretty uneffective, but still satisfying.

Which further mystifies the fact that I'm craving for a sandwich in the dead of the night. Oh greedy, greedy Bianca.

Are you now craving for a philly cheesesteak sandwich with extra melted cheese and mushrooms? Good.



Photo credits to What's Cooking, America? for the mouthwatering philly cheesesteak sandwich. As for the finger-biting pup, I found him/her on Tumblr, and he/she's been reblogged too many times for me to know who actually posted it first. Just know that it ain't mine (though I wish it were).