So wouldn't you know it?

Apropos of last week's kvetch, one of the dreaded caterer interviews I am supposed to do this week (okay, am supposed to have done already!) called me up and said they want me to come in person:  they'd like to cook me their two best dishes.  First time it's ever happened, I swear!  Even the place with the all-you-can-eat buffet never offered to let me come and nibble.
Their two best dishes!
I had to decline, however.  It would still be too much legwork, and this week is so busy, scheduling would be impossible.  That's one reason.
The other is that the second caterer in the same article has NOT offered to feed me.  Which would bias me to no end and undoubtedly quash any shred of journalistic integrity I might have in me.
But still... drat!
I wonder if I could take a raincheque for when the article comes out...?  Assuming they like the article.
p.s.  I always correct people when they say I'm a journalist.  Lest you think the word "journalistic" means I think I'm a journalist or something.  I'm a writer.  Like in my favourite memorable line from Throw Mama from the Train:  "Writers write... always!"  I love that line because it's so kitschy.  Just so bad... so badly written!


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