Remember the episode of “Sex and the City” (I think it was titled “Freak Show”) where the girls are bemoaning the freaks they seem to attract even though they’re all so normal only to then have Carrie tear into her new boyfriend’s drawers and closet (whole apartment really) for clues about his possible freakiness? While carnival music plays in the background she realizes, upon getting totally busted by this nice, totally benign guy, that she’s actually the freak show... 

Well, it was me who was Le Freak (not so chic!) this week, even though I pride myself on my almost pathologically boring, non-craziness and I really, really am loathe to refer to Sex and the City after that truly shiteous sequel.

This is the point where the Tiny Dancer might want to avert her eyes and skip to the recipe (sorry, Mom)...

I had a date. Cue the carnival music.