My name is Tricia…

And I'm addicted to chicken wings.

For the longest time, I never ate them because I thought, frankly, that they were too much work for too little reward. But I have in to peer pressure on day and now I can't get enough. My addiction plus the fact that the grocery store across the street now sells them on the hot bar. I got them for Super Bowl. I got them for the Daytona 500. I got them because it was Saturday. Today, I got them simply because they were there.

And this is what the ol' blog has come to…

One thought on “My name is Tricia…

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