Veni, Vidi, Vici.

From - Central Command
To -Field Operative

Mission Dispatch

This mission will not be easy. The objective is achievable though not for the faint of heart. The trek will be a familiar one. You will journey to the stadium and attempt to consume an unwarranted amount of fatty, starchy, and totally indigestible cuisine.

Recommendations – Bring Antacids

I was at the ballpark with a couple of my mates. I’ve now been to a number of Giants games, and can claim a greater understanding of the sport, thanks in no small part to Ando and J Crew’s patience. Additionally I have what is called a “ball cap” with proves I’m no longer the outsider. It was a great game. Regardless, we must stay focused on the mission.

Some decisions are difficult, the choice for my meal was not. I love pigs, dead for the most part and cooked preferably, but I won’t quibble. We were seated in the last row on the top tier of the park. While we were watching the the game, a fellow spectator began asking me questions about certain players tenure, and how I though the pitchers stats were this year. I turned to him and confessed, “I’m here for the garlic fries.” Even from our perch we were overpowered by the smell of garlic. It permeates the park. It called to us, like a Siren wooing us to our own misfortune. Unlike Odysseus I had no reservations. I wished only to let my nose lead me to the stand that would fulfill my desires. Dinner consisted of one Louisiana hot link and a bucket size container of garlic fries. So far so good. I was forced to substitution a Coke for the sweet refreshment of a Dew, but that was my only compunction. Around the sixth inning I performed further gastronomic research on my gorging threshold by purchasing a churro. I seemed impervious to the effects of my fast food indulgence. To further aggravate the issue I went straight home, and fell asleep.

Friday night I felt fine. Saturday was spent in utter agony.

I had lost four pounds by Sunday morning, and still haven’t completely purged the garlic odor from my person. At least the vampires will be at bay the next few days.

The worst part is I don’t regret it. I feel no shame; I’ve learned no lesson, save bring your own Mountain Dew to the park. I’ve learned to never regret a good meal the next day. If you chose the meal you choose the consequences. To prove this point I'll tell you that tonight I ate buffalo wings for dinner. We will see how tomorrow goes. Like Caesar I count the engagement as a victory. I came, I saw, I devoured.


J Crew said...

Words to live by. You are a true professional.

kludge said...

Thanks J Crew!

The issue is not my professionalism but rather my stupidity. I cannot seem to convey to my brain how unhappy I'll be the next day... I think the condition is called Gluttony...