My loving wife has been giving me friendly reminders about the importance of a balanced diet, and - though I do put forth an honest effort to improve the quality of my food consumption - I still exhibit a tendency to stuff my pie-hole with unhealthy food items. This is especially the case when I am both tired and hungry, and the idea of quick food wins out over common sense.
Such was the case this evening, when my trip to Speedway for $10 in gas and two gallons of milk brought me into contact with an in-store advertisement that promised "ANY TWO GRILL ITEMS: $2.00." Turning on the shiny electric grill-bars were a bunch of tasty-looking corn dogs, those lipid-laden, artery-clogging, empty-calorie food items that nonetheless fit my two basic criteria: quick, instantaneous, and cheap.
OK, that is three criteria. Sue me.
Anyways, after completing my purchases and pumping the gas, I drove away from the station and attempted to bite the first of the corn dogs, but my teeth could not crack the rock-hard exterior of a grilled food item that must have spent three hours in high heat. Even the inner hot dog had been reduced to a leathery, rope-like texture more like beef jerky than tender meat. The second corn dog was equally inedible, as though I tried to chew a piece of our leather Moroccan furniture, despite my desperate efforts to gnaw a few pieces of inner cornmeal to tide me over.
Now, you are probably saying to yourself: "Why would a person actually EAT food cooked in a gas station?" Normally I would join you in denigrating the virtues (if there are any) of gas station food, yet I willfully ignored this rather obvious piece of wisdom.
"Gas station food." The phrase sounds almost like an oxymoron, but that did not stop me from trying to cram the worthless corn dogs down my gullet. So to my wife: I went home and ate some yogurt, some raw carrots, and a piece of bread, plus the leftovers from El Camino Real you so kindly brought home as we lounged upon our Moroccan furniture. My elevated cholesterol levels did not suffer from this moment of culinary insanity, and I live for another day to avoid making impulsive food decisions.