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But that's just my theory. I was still in Dean Koontz mode during all this, I could only make out colors and shapes and just wanted to go home. recipes But we stayed for hours, everybody in different rooms hollering at each other. Why so much noise, all the time?! I kept making hand gestures to Toney, trying to get her to take recipes the proverbial bull by the horns. Or, as Nancy might put it, take the bull by a hug (or whatever). I just wanted to get the hell out of there. And I was relieved recipes when Toney finally announced that we'd better get going. And the next thing I know, a pot of diarrhea coffee is being brewed, and we're bound to drink at least one cup each. What the hell, man? We're being held prisoner, in a mid-century chalet! While we sat in different rooms sipping our steaming bowel-rippers, the phone rang. It was Nostrils, and I could only hear one side of the conversation.
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