Why, Why, Why...

…do I get so, so, so, much pleasure from eating the wrong food? I mean, it’s some sort of curse, right? Or, maybe I’m one of those people who went AWOL while God was handing out the nutritious eating gene.

Whatever.

So, last night I’m sitting next to my step-brother (not the one from Peru/Chile, but the one from Santa Fe, New Mexico who I haven’t seen for eight years, and oh yes—he’s a health nut), and he asks me if I like asparagus.

The question causes me much soul searching.

How do you tell someone like him that the only vegetable you’re likely to consume comes in the potato variety, preferably French fried?

“I don’t eat fruits and vegetables,” I mumble pathetically. Then I add, kinda desperately, so he’ll know I’m not an idiot: “I’m gonna die young.” But just to take the edge off my comment—maybe fool him a little—I eat two spears of asparagus along with the chicken and salad.

Then I follow it all up with chocolate pecan pie and frozen yogurt. And for good measure I continue nibbling on crackers and salmon/cream cheese pate.

::Sigh::

Wait...uh-oh...did someone just open a bag of Fritos in the front office???

Watch me lay rubber down the hallway...