Why is it that Sunday always puts you in the mood for dangerous amounts of greasy junk food, especially if you’ve been drinking heavily the past two days? I just got paid (yes paid) and Sunday I had an uncontrollable craving to max out my credit card at the nearby stir fry arena. You know you’re facing the tubes of a dual barrel heart decease cannon, if you’re are in the mood for a double-cheeseburger-two-chocolate-donut–strawberry-milkshake. I literally had to address myself as a 5-yearold holding a pair of scissors in one hand and one side of a 650 thread count curtain in the other; “NO!”

Despite best intentions not to overdo it, I still ended up with a large deep pan pizza, 24 wings, a cheeseburger and a small pond of soda. I was munching away with a broad smile on my cherry face, completely disregarding a small and much neglected voice in my head that kept saying: “You’re such a fucking idiot!”

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