I woke up this morning wanting chili. It was damn near visceral. Must. Have. Chili. Chili.

The problem is that I don't know how to make chili, other than opening a can. Now, my mom made some wicked good chili when I was little, but I never bothered to learn to make it, because hey! SHE makes it. Who can top that?

(I did learn to make other favorites...I'm backwards but not 100% stupid. Mostly.)

I don't like much canned chili, either. I do like Wendy's chili.

I fought the urge. I ate breakfast and then got online to check email, surf a few forums, knowing I was not hungry so it was not going to be an issue. I poked around with an idea for a manuscript that's been floating around in the back of my head; it has the tiniest of notions but I don't have a fully formed story, so there were some thoughts about stabbing myself in the temple with a sharp object to get the idea to pour out, but that thought was cast aside by another little voice in my head that started to whine chili.

Then there was the brief notion that if I stabbed myself in the temple with a dull object, I could shut that voice up. But no, by then I was actually hungry, and the voice was louder, and I could feel little feet stomping in the recesses of my gray matter, my inner toddler throwing a temper tantrum and whining chili, chili, CHILI! over and over.

So I caved. I went to Wendy's.

There was an older guy in line ahead of me who must have had the same craving; he ordered 2 large chilis and a Coke, then stepped aside to wait for the 12 year old manager type guy to scoop it up. I placed my order--one small chili and a small diet, please--and the kid at the chili pan turned and said, "Sorry, he got the last of it."

Now, I was grasping for my big girl panties so I could make sure they didn't wedge right up into my buttcrack and cause the inner toddler to cry, and I almost had the words "all right, I'll just get a burger" out, but the other guy put on his superhero cape and said "I'LL SAVE YOU!"

Or maybe it was just, "Wait, I only need one chili. I'll get a baked potato instead and she can have the other chili."

That's when I dropped to my knees and licked his shoes.

Or not.

I do know that I thanked him. But I may have said it like I was stuck in the Valley. "Dude! That's, like, so COOL of you! Thank you!" And that may be why he grabbed his food and ran out to his car.

As I paid for mine, the girl at the counter asked if I needed anything else, and I swear, I turned into a three year old and asked in my best I'm A Big Girl Voice, can i please have some extra crackers? because DUDE! If you don't ask like you're a polite munchkin, they won't let you have them.

At least I'm pretty sure that's why I asked like that.

So now I'm home and not hungry and all chili-fied, and my inner toddler can just shut up until dinner time, when there will be an all out BUT I DON'T WANT TO COOK DINNER wrestling match, but this time, I'm bitch slapping the little shit, because she totally got pizza for dinner last night, and tonight, she gets meatloaf.

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