Cheryl got sick twice on her way home from work Friday, so we didn’t hang out as planned. Late Saturday afternoon, either in karmic retribution for what I did to Nancy last weekend or in sympathy for Cheryl, I started throwing up. I didn’t feel bad enough to attribute it to a virus, but on the other hand I’d eaten absolutely nothing that should have caused such Exorcist-level antics. Another couple of hours and I’d have been throwing up my MOLARS.
I felt a little better Sunday as I watched the Canadian Grand Prix - FORZA FERRARI! It got even better yesterday when I heard the news: Whiny-Ass Chubbs Montoya (along with his teammate - sorry, Ralf) got disqualified for illegal brake ducts. BWAHAHAHA! I’d love to take credit for it but I don’t have brake ducts on my voodoo doll, so this was just a gift from the gods.
Figuring I needed to eat as I had forcibly expelled all nutrition from my body, I surveyed the freezer and cabinets. Unfortunately, I tend to favor heavily seasoned, spicy things, seafood and expensive steaks; I didn’t want to eat anything that would cause a repeat performance of Saturday nor did I want to waste a good steak. Thinking of the fast food available nearby, I decided to try Steak-N-Shake. Because they individually condiment each steakburger, their drive-thru always takes a bit longer; I was okay with that but I wasn’t okay with it taking OVER A FREAKIN’ HOUR with only three people ahead of me, which it did; I’ve no idea why.
One thing I dislike about myself is my inability to just make a decision and live with it, which was demonstrated with the steakburger scenario. After I’d sat there 20 minutes or so, I wanted to leave but I kept thinking, “Surely it won’t be much longer”, “Any minute now”, “It can’t be much longer” and I felt kinda foolish giving up and leaving once I’d already waited so long - knowing that as soon as I’d left the line, it would move up. I stayed put and after a few more minutes of non-activity, I more or less decided that, after waiting THIS long, there was no way I was leaving without some food, but I couldn’t be satisfied with that either. I kept sitting there griping to myself about how ridiculous it was to just keep sitting there and consequently how ridiculous I was, sitting there hungry when there was a McFood across the street and a Wendy’s a few hundred yards away. (I didn’t park the car and go in because I had spent the last twenty-four hours either throwing up or lying in bed - you can imagine what a paragon of pulchritude I was).
When I finally got to the window, the lady says, “Frisco melt, chicken melt, large fries, right?” As you might surmise from knowing that I was trying to feed only one (recently vomiting) person, this was NOT my order. However, after all that time, there was no way in hell I was arguing with her or starting the whole nightmare over with any pusillanimous little assertion like, “I only wanted a steakburger with cheese,” so I handed over twelve bucks, took the bag and hauled my butt home. I feel bad about screwing up someone else’s order, I truly do, but I’d simply had enough by that point. Everyone else in the universe can get food at the drive-thru without incident, but for me it’s a freakin’ SAGA.
The Frisco melt wasn’t bad. I don't know about the chicken because I fed that to Finnovar and Sprocket; Finnovar licked the tasty special sauce off his but refused to eat it. Sprocket was willing to trade so he allowed Finn to lick off his sauce, then ate both pieces. Currently, neither of them are throwing up so I guess it ended well, except that I’m sure I’ll pay later, risking the wrath of the fast-food gods by absconding with the Frisco melts of others, but, hey, I’m a renegade who loves to live on the edge.
MONTOYA DELENDA EST!
I felt a little better Sunday as I watched the Canadian Grand Prix - FORZA FERRARI! It got even better yesterday when I heard the news: Whiny-Ass Chubbs Montoya (along with his teammate - sorry, Ralf) got disqualified for illegal brake ducts. BWAHAHAHA! I’d love to take credit for it but I don’t have brake ducts on my voodoo doll, so this was just a gift from the gods.
Figuring I needed to eat as I had forcibly expelled all nutrition from my body, I surveyed the freezer and cabinets. Unfortunately, I tend to favor heavily seasoned, spicy things, seafood and expensive steaks; I didn’t want to eat anything that would cause a repeat performance of Saturday nor did I want to waste a good steak. Thinking of the fast food available nearby, I decided to try Steak-N-Shake. Because they individually condiment each steakburger, their drive-thru always takes a bit longer; I was okay with that but I wasn’t okay with it taking OVER A FREAKIN’ HOUR with only three people ahead of me, which it did; I’ve no idea why.
One thing I dislike about myself is my inability to just make a decision and live with it, which was demonstrated with the steakburger scenario. After I’d sat there 20 minutes or so, I wanted to leave but I kept thinking, “Surely it won’t be much longer”, “Any minute now”, “It can’t be much longer” and I felt kinda foolish giving up and leaving once I’d already waited so long - knowing that as soon as I’d left the line, it would move up. I stayed put and after a few more minutes of non-activity, I more or less decided that, after waiting THIS long, there was no way I was leaving without some food, but I couldn’t be satisfied with that either. I kept sitting there griping to myself about how ridiculous it was to just keep sitting there and consequently how ridiculous I was, sitting there hungry when there was a McFood across the street and a Wendy’s a few hundred yards away. (I didn’t park the car and go in because I had spent the last twenty-four hours either throwing up or lying in bed - you can imagine what a paragon of pulchritude I was).
When I finally got to the window, the lady says, “Frisco melt, chicken melt, large fries, right?” As you might surmise from knowing that I was trying to feed only one (recently vomiting) person, this was NOT my order. However, after all that time, there was no way in hell I was arguing with her or starting the whole nightmare over with any pusillanimous little assertion like, “I only wanted a steakburger with cheese,” so I handed over twelve bucks, took the bag and hauled my butt home. I feel bad about screwing up someone else’s order, I truly do, but I’d simply had enough by that point. Everyone else in the universe can get food at the drive-thru without incident, but for me it’s a freakin’ SAGA.
The Frisco melt wasn’t bad. I don't know about the chicken because I fed that to Finnovar and Sprocket; Finnovar licked the tasty special sauce off his but refused to eat it. Sprocket was willing to trade so he allowed Finn to lick off his sauce, then ate both pieces. Currently, neither of them are throwing up so I guess it ended well, except that I’m sure I’ll pay later, risking the wrath of the fast-food gods by absconding with the Frisco melts of others, but, hey, I’m a renegade who loves to live on the edge.
MONTOYA DELENDA EST!
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home