I should be exercising right now. Instead, I'm writing this at a coffeehouse while consuming more food.
Should've seen this coming. I woke up and didn't have anything, thank Buddha, but that's because I knew I was going down to this really nice pub to eat and watch the World Cup eighthfinal match between Brazil and Chile. Washed down a honey mustard chicken standwich (with chips and fruit) with a Pabst Blue Ribbon Tall Boy.
I thought I should take it easy on my stomach then, so I went to Barnes & Noble and got a coffee instead of a mocha. There I get a call from Mother who wants me to order pizza. (They then asked me to go to the grocery store and buy chicken 'cause it's on sale, eight pieces for five bucks!) I managed to limit myself to six slices.
I wanted to wash this down with a Pepsi, then go out and work at this coffeeshop. Then Mother comes in and gives me this Chinese ... soup thing for me to drink. Damn, more shit to consume. So I have that waiting for me at home once I leave here.
I don't know how I haven't thrown up yet.
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