Big Dumb Animal
Forget the legal and/or religious arguments for/against gay marriage. Right now, I know why heterosexual marriage exists.
Cuz it keeps men from dying.
Last night, I leave The Minuteman and remember that I need milk for today, so I go out of my way to swing by Trader Joe's.
I swing by there because:
1) Even with the extra bit of gas it takes to get there it's still marginally cheaper than my other options (and WAY cheaper than the Comersh down the street from the house)
2) It will probably have something cool and frozen that I can make for dinner thereby saving the leftover pasta for another night
3) Trader Joe's is an official sponsor of the Chicago Cubs. And corporate sponsorships MEAN something people.
Right, so I pop in to TJ's and grab milk, a banana soy shake and head to the frozen foods aisle. Soba noodles? No, not enough protein. Spanikopita? No, that's just gonna hurt. Tiramisu? Dude, how old are you?
It's about this time that I hit upon a package of beef taquitos. Hrmmm, taquitos, that sounds like a real good idea. Look, there's 10 of them, and I have that really good salsa at home and it'll leave me something to heat up for lunch tomorrow...BRILLIANT!
Right, so I'm at home, I have an episode of DS9 queued up on the TiVo, I've nuked five of the taquitos and smothered them in salsa.
Ten minutes later, I nuke the other five.
An hour later, I'm wondering why the hell I ate the rest of the taquitos. I want to die, really, I want to die. This isn't up there with the night I drank salsa, hell it doesn't even really compare to it, which means that as I've gotten older, I HAVE gotten wiser and therefore my tolerance for gastronomical stupidity has degraded rather severely.
Yeah, serious pain, yo.
Right, so marriage. See, if Nena'd been around she would have expressly forbade me from going back for the last five taquitos. She would have reminded me that they were going to hurt me really bad and threatened to make me sleep not with her if I ate said taquitos. But since she wasn't around...I ate the taquitos and then I paid for it with bloating and discomfort and that feeling you get when you've had too much grease.
Ugh, I need some fry bread.
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Ugh. That's how I felt after eating chicken teriyaki from the caf last week. Needless to say, the caf is out of rotation.
Anyone else reminded of Jim Gaffigan's "Hot Pockets" bit?