Use your noodle

You know in that post down there, the one where I talk about my cleavage, you can erase the part where I walked Denali this morning.

Why, you ask.

Well, this gal got a little present this morning. At 6:30, Mark rolled over and told me school was canceled. I wouldn’t have to rush around to squeeze in a walk with Denali before yoga; Mark would have the time this morning after catching up with “The Doctors.”

Three cheers for icy roads! OK … just one cheer because I nearly fell on my butt just walking from the back door to my car.

Actually, let’s make that two cheers because there was another bonus – a hot lunch date.

Oops. Wrong date. It was more like this.

 

Mark picked me up from work, and we headed a new-to-us Vietnamese restaurant that my co-workers rave about. Labeled as “the shit” and “cheap” we knew it would be perfect for us.

Mark, in all his adventurousness, tried the shrimp fried rice with egg roll. I think he just wanted the egg roll.

I opted for the traditional pho, picking a version that had eye round steak and well-done flank. Tripe? I’ll pass. (By the way, I have no idea why that piece of hair decided to stick out on its own. Rogue hair, I tell ya!)

I also got the Goi Cuon, “raw” spring rolls served with a peanut sauce. Yum … in an interesting, “it needs to grow on you” sort of way.

The best part of the meal, though, was when “Ice, Ice Baby” came on the Musaq.

I had no choice but to dance in the restaurant. I just didn’t.

What song makes you bust a move?