Culinary Indulgence.

I smell like burger and root beer. I’ll get to that.

I inadvertantly stayed up late having one of those comment-conversations with an LJer. I’m not the type of person that likes ending those first. I’ll just go and go. We had two parallel threads going for a while, until one randomly ended. The second one lasted a little longer before she IMed me and wondered if she was keeping me up. *laughs* I’d rather stay up doing that than feeling depressed. So I allowed it.

I didn’t feel like getting up this morning. I was out of bed around 8 AM. Had my liter of water and a slice of bread. Eventually peed like a mofo. I love peeeeing. I realized that I did not want to do cardio today! Half an hour on a crosstrainer is like torture to me. Lifting weights is instant gratification. I say, “I’ve done this!” Then you rest thirty seconds and do more stuff. Cardio requires pushing yourself until you want to say, “OKAY, I GIVE UP.”

I remembered the entire point of structuring my day. To have something to fall back on if I had nothing else to do. Yes. Yes, I did think of something better to do with myself. One of my little pleasures it to buy new underwear. Figured I’d buy some black white beaters, see how inordinately WHITE they make my pale (but beautiful and healthy) skin look. And buy some bikini briefs.

I got into the van and was once again reminded by some maintenance lights. Normally I’m too structured to stop and figure out what they mean, so I bothered to look in the manual. One is just something that comes on regardless and has to be reset (assuming nothing’s wrong). The other made me consider checking the oil. Which was low. Ended up adding over a quart to get it back to level. Whoops.

Went to the bank to make a deposit or two. The regular deposit slips were out, so I figured I’d use the ATM. Normally this would terrify me, but I’ve done it once before with Erik, so I figured I could figure it out. It’s scary just feeding your money into a machine, but I know your account is eventually credited. I was about to head to the Rockaway Mall when I smelled oil.

“Wait, did I put the oil cap back on?”

That’s actually the second oil cap the Van has had. First thought, “Oh shit, better drive slow because it could still be on there.” Second thought, “You twit, you’ve already been driving for a little. If it was going to fall off, it would have fallen off already.” Third thought, “You know, it’s not like the wind’s going to blow it away. It could be sitting right exactly where it is.”

I was close to home, so I parked, popped the hood, and there the gas cap was sitting, right where I left it. *laughs*

Abercrombie and Fitch smells funny. *shudders* I’d sooner go into Victoria’s Secret than to go into those places. PRE-RIPPED AND STAINED JEANS! BE TRENDY LIKE THE REBELS OF TEN YEARS AGO. *rolls eyes* And so the cycle repeats. I used to get a kick out of Hot Topic (which is owned by The Gap), but I stopped caring. It’s no fun without getting a can of Vamp.

Actually, I headed to the arcade first to waste some quarters. Unfortunately, the DDR machine wasn’t on. Disappointed, I went to JCPenney. Because that’s where I go. And much to my delight, undies were on sale. Among other things, they were trying to get rid of their Valentine’s Day undies. I giggled like a Timmy and bought some cute lovey boxers, as if I’d have someone to wear them for. Ha. I CAN WEAR THEM FOR ME! Grawr.

Pity I rarely wear boxers anymore, what with wanting a foreskin and all. Maybe I should *gasp* get rid of some old boxers. What a concept! I got a three-pack of some bikini-briefs in colors I don’t have yet. My original motivation for getting more undies was the increase of usage due to showering more frequently. Working out and all.

I walked back through the mall, debating whether to have some impulse food. I like Popeye’s little apple “pie”. There was a line, and I didn’t see it on the menu, so I left. I passed by Villa Pizza. Fantastic overpriced pizza. Two and a half for one slice? I can do better. I was walking to the Van when it hit me. I smiled and my spirit was renewed.

Among everything else around me, I have a Fatburger near me. I hadn’t been there yet. Ditching cardio in favor of Fatburger seems like the perfect compromise. Now, I like burgers, it should be rather obvious. When I was in my early teens, I’d order burgers everywhere, trying to sample as much as possible. I did eventually hit a wall and started ordering other things.

Being simple, I had a double fatburger (with cheese!) and a large root beer float. Don’t give me any of that diet crap. If I’m going to have a fatburger, I’m going to have a goddamn root beer float! A lifestyle where I can’t have good and potentially dangerous food now and then is a life not worth living!

It was fantastic. No, that’s an understatement. To say it was the best burger I’ve ever had doesn’t capture the magnificance. I’ve had to have eaten well over a thousand burgers in my lifetime. Probably right up there with the thousands of times I’ve masturbated. Grawr. The previous best was Fuddruckers.

More than the taste, something else struck me. It was hot. Now I make my own burgers a lot, but I’ve never noticed a burger being so hot temperature-wise when I’ve bitten into it. I was halfway through and still noticing this.

I was gulping down the root beer float. Part of the ice cream was blocking the flow of liquid, and then BAM, down my beard and onto my shirt. Not the entire thing, no, just enough root beer to make me giggle.

I guess that settles it. I really can’t have another burger (White Castle aside) unless I hit up Fatburger. My taste for steak may cost a mature forty dollars, but my taste for burgers can cost less than ten bucks, baby.

Things I have checkmarked: Shaved, clipped nails, went to bank, bought wife beaters and undies. Things to do: Call Cliff, reset gym bag.

In the mean time, I feel like peeing, downing another liter of water, and playing dress-up in my new undies. Grawr. No wonder I go through batteries in my camera. Is it too late to name a two and a half year old camera?

Oh, and before I left to go shopping, I took pictures/videos of me dancing to Song For Shelter. Few things get my mojo going like Fatboy Slim. I can dance like few PSWGs can.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I should change my shirt, and model my undies.