Monday, August 13, 2007
Fast Times on Wilton Avenue
I had to do a little fast starting last night because I had blood drawn for my annual physical this morning. The fun thing is that, though I'm generally not exactly the Hot Dog Eating Champion of the World Joey Chestnut, whenever someone tells me I can't eat, I start to go crazy. This happens every Lent when I regularly damn myself to an eternity in hell by eating Whoppers with Cheese on Fridays. It happens when I have dental work done and end up biting huge chunks out of my tongue because I simply can't wait until the Novocaine wears off to eat my Hot Pockets. And it happened last night.
Things started off well enough. I ate an entire California Pizza Kitchen home-bake pizza and several Hostess products and steeled myself up for the fast. Then I went out to hear Taylor Dane perform "Tell it to My Heart" at Market Days and thusly take my mind off my growing and insatiable hunger. But still, around 9 PM I was about ready to rip off a stranger's head for a grilled cheese sandwich. I was imagining the fridge talking to me like I was in some long-lost Cathy comic. I had to put myself to bed to avoid my ridiculous urges.
Luckily, the blood came out on schedule this morning, and I have been gorging myself ever since. It's good to be an American.
I had to do a little fast starting last night because I had blood drawn for my annual physical this morning. The fun thing is that, though I'm generally not exactly the Hot Dog Eating Champion of the World Joey Chestnut, whenever someone tells me I can't eat, I start to go crazy. This happens every Lent when I regularly damn myself to an eternity in hell by eating Whoppers with Cheese on Fridays. It happens when I have dental work done and end up biting huge chunks out of my tongue because I simply can't wait until the Novocaine wears off to eat my Hot Pockets. And it happened last night.
Things started off well enough. I ate an entire California Pizza Kitchen home-bake pizza and several Hostess products and steeled myself up for the fast. Then I went out to hear Taylor Dane perform "Tell it to My Heart" at Market Days and thusly take my mind off my growing and insatiable hunger. But still, around 9 PM I was about ready to rip off a stranger's head for a grilled cheese sandwich. I was imagining the fridge talking to me like I was in some long-lost Cathy comic. I had to put myself to bed to avoid my ridiculous urges.
Luckily, the blood came out on schedule this morning, and I have been gorging myself ever since. It's good to be an American.
