I Just Threw Up A Little Bit in My Mouth

I was feeling dangerously experimental this evening.

Trying to remedy that hellish hour of boredom that had me considering ungodly activities for fun, like changing my voice mail greeting or seeking the wisdom hidden in the multiple fortune cookies I was eating at the time.

*Notes of interest:

I will not return your phone calls unless you leave a message and sing it to me in E minor.
I once got a fortune that said, "It is impossible to please everyone, so please yourself [in bed].

So, what was I to do to entertain myself?

Since I'm a word wrangler of such gritty minimalism whereby apostrophes will hug and cling to these sentences like saran wrap, I'll keep this entry short and sweet. I'm really not terse, but I will be for this entry.

I showed up to Hooters, in search of all things hot. Bosoms of spicy chicken and the scantly-clad '70s porn star themed waitresses. So I roll up in that mother fucker (I don't know why I just used such vulgar language there) and eat generous servings of fried gobs of chicken that would either a) feed several small African villages b) pose a threat to your esophagus and contribute to other worldy indigestion.

After eating, only minutes after swallowing greased lightning in the form of hot wings, I decided to run three miles for good measure.

For all intents and purposes, I had just eaten two pounds of butter. And the after taste tasted like axle grease ... and I felt like the business end of your shoes after you just sludged through a bar bathroom.

It was bad. And I needed some quick, spiritually uplifting health fix it was that bad. I think the atrium valves in my heart were signing up for Yoga class or some shit. So I washed all the grease out of my clogged arteries with ice cream. Wow!

This came half way through my run mind you. I stopped, bought ice cream and continued my run.

Dope? no sir. Contradictory? yes.

It was an intriguing exploration of the brilliantly simplistic premise that I completely negated the process of achievement when I decided to run. Yes, run. I had reached great feats by stuffing my face with fried goodness, and ruined it with a run.