Food is the devil. You do realize that, don't you?
Last Wednesday, everyone in our department at work celebrated our appreciation for a specific co-worker at Luminarias, near Cal State L.A. I have always hated all-you-can-eat buffets because you pay a hefty price and therefore are pressured into eating a ton of food to get your money's worth. So there I was eating plate after plate after plate after plate of food and during that fourth plate, the food just hit me and I stopped. I seriously just sat there with an "oh god, I'm going to explode if another piece of food goes anywhere near my mouth" look on my face, in front of my boss to boot. When I get full, I get sick. I'm one of those guys who finds it almost impossible to burp on command, so the gas just sits in my chest and gurgles in my throat. So I feel gaseous and bloated and in serious stomach pain. I found it incredibly hard to return to my work that afternoon. It hurt all the way through that night.
So you'd think I'd have learned my lesson, right? Wrong. Today, we were treated to a free lunch by the president of the company. To max out what we were allowed to spend, I got a BBQ Combo Platter (ribs, ham steak, and BBQ shredded chicken) and a box of chicken strips and fries. I ate till I was comfortably full. But then, because it is Erico Suave's birthday today (if you see him, wish him a Merry B), his family invited me to dinner at a chicken pot pie place (CPPP) called Moffett's. I got a hearty chicken pot, chicken pot, chicken pot piiiiiie dinner and ate till I was too stuffed to eat even ice cream dessert cake.
Then the chestular gas came. Made me feel completely ill.
So the moral of the story is, I should learn to limit my food consumption because it's not fun stuffing yourself uncomfortably only to find out that there's no room left for a freakin' delicious slice of Baskin Robbin's cookies n' cream ice cream cake.