-Whenever I eat any of the whole wheat bread, low fat cheese, or diet whatever that I keep in my apartment, I think to myself, “This isn't that bad. I can't even tell the difference.” But when I’m somewhere else and eat the real stuff, I exclaim, “Sweet Lord, what have I been missing!?” The truth is, I’ve never been much of a food connoisseur. I know what I like and proceed to consume too much of it. My attempts at healthy eating generally fail as soon as I leave the confines of my own kitchen. Nevertheless, to me, meals are like one-night stands: as long as I don’t wake up feeling regret the morning after, I consider myself a winner.
-Not all side dishes are created equal. Let me get this straight – my choices are mac and cheese, french fries, stuffing, cole slaw, or steamed broccoli? Why are the last two even on the fucking menu?
-You know you got wasted when you wake up so late the next day that your first meal is dinner.
-Once you’ve had chopped salad you can never go back. Do you really expect me to chew through a whole piece of lettuce now? That just seems like a lot of work.
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