Goodness! There's a lesson in the fork through the finger incident. Did you get it? The lesson is, don't eat rice. I know this is a good lesson to learn, because I have to eat rice every fucking day, and therefore, logically, nobody should eat it, ever again. It follows, right? I mean, where the hell am I? Bangladesh? No. I'm in Bolivia, where I should be eating left over llama leg. But no, dry bloody rice. Although the arroz con leche (milky rice) down the road at the Churrusceria (I think it's called, where there's lots of meat. Maybe it's called a ChuckusaRear) with the great slab of gooseflesh (or beef, not sure, just that the beef never appears on my forearms when I get all queasy...) and *shudder* chips, is just delightful, until you eat too much and just stab yourself with the fork to put an end to the pain
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