There are so many intelligent and articulate people covering the hard-hitting
issues in our country these days, that I felt it was my duty to cover the
rather inconsequential bullshit that tends to make up the vast majority of
our lives. Actually, I'll just be griping a lot which, if you weren't aware,
doubles as a synonym for complaining, and as a descriptor for
a sharp pain in the bowels.

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Meat Coma

Last night I hit Cheeburger for dinner, and I certainly overdid it. I opted for the classic pound burger (20 oz before cooking), split a basket of frings, and topped it off with an Oreo-Peanut Butter Cup-Cookie Dough Milkshake. Though I had done this all before, I really hope to say that will be the last time. I am quickly becoming an old man in my gluttonous eating habits.

Because it had been a long time since I'd had red meat, this only made things worse. The body produces a specific enzyme to break down red meat and while I couldn't find a link to validate this, I did find a study on the link between red meat consumption and rectal cancer. Just one more reason to steer clear of red meat I'd say. So indeed, my body was lacking this enzyme (think of it as needing antibiotics maybe) and going from zero beef to one pound=trouble. My cheeks got flushed and while I didn't get the meat sweats I felt full-scale awful. A rough estimate says my dinner was a minimum of 3,596 calories (it's fun to be precise) and I am still full as far as I can tell and, either way, still feeling awful. Still, before I felt pretty poorly, I entered a MEAT DELIRIUM. The 3/4th pound burger is actually called "The Delirious" at this place, but let me tell you, when you go beyond 3/4th, still delirious. I was inexplicably giddy so my new mission will be to unlock the euphoric power of meat, all euphemisms aside.

The other day I linked to an article which cited Puffy/Diddy/etc.'s involvement in Tupac's shooting, but it turns out I need to take the advice of the Professor in Real Genius and always check my references. Still, once the allegations are thrown out there the damage is done and I persist in my distrust of Diddy.

In other silly celebrity news, Jamie Lynn Spears beat me to the punch in getting engaged and, while I can't give birth (yet) I'm fairly certain I've fathered several children over the years. And since Katie Holmes is on the cover of that magazine as well, I'll take the time to reach out to Scientology and an ancient reference to it four minutes and twenty-five seconds into that classic track.

Time for some lunch.

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