I returned to the scene of the scolding. This time I’m talking about the Japanese dollar store because yes, I’ve been reprimanded a few times for snapping photos during the course of this blog. (I think those people need to eat an ice-cream cone with sprinkles, or something.)

Anyway, I bloggered-up and faced the back of the girl who scolded me, as she went to get on her broom or stick needles into cushioned dolls. She could have also been getting inventory from the stockroom, I’m not certain.

So, my finds. This bowl? I think it says it all.

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When I attended a food-tasting event with a friend recently, she did something that had me looking at her in sympathy and, well, amusement because I’m just a twisted friend like that.

She’d put a forkful of a mysterious something—we didn’t know what a lot of the samples were, as we were pulling a grab-and-go-and-taste kind of action plan because of the large crowd size—into her mouth and then immediately began to look around frantically for a napkin.

The mystery had been solved. It was the dreaded mushroom that topped the artichoke mousse. I stood to the side and relished the taste combination, being a Friend of the Fungus, as I watched my friend spit her mouthful of misery into a napkin. Such a lady, that one.

In hindsight, maybe I should have been more sympathetic. Then perhaps karma wouldn’t have bit me in the you-know-where with this item.

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