The Proof

Here's the proof that I still eat like I have a death wish. Its a "tagged and bagged" chili cheese dog, from the gas station. Looks like shit in a plastic bag, tastes like heaven. I washed it down with a gas station nacho, cheese, chili and jalapeno mixture in a paper bowl. You know it-

And this, my brothers, is called "chicken stew"- It is homemade by a good friend of mine, who amazingly enough, is an awesome cook though completely lacking a sense of smell. I don't know how he does it. He periodically releases a "batch" of the stew (following some marker on a lunar calender, I believe) and hand delivers it to his chosen people. My entire family gets giddy when they know its coming. The photo is not blurred- I had drank about eight of those PBR's and as far as I know, this is what it actually looked like. Awesome.