Never Eating Again

by Michelle

Shishell and I were not expecting the Friday night that we had. Unfortunately for our goal of a low key night, Brooklyn Winery was offering ten dollars off a carafe, so that seemed like the best option. This was not a small carafe, but enough to make us think we should continue drinking well into the night. We had a lovely night; we hopped from bar to bar as I diligently played wing man to the lovely Shishell, despite having to talk to an astronaut all night. Well, he wasn’t an astronaut as much as he was some dude who sewed an American flag to his red Member’s Only jacket so I kept calling him Neil (as in Armstrong) all night. I don’t know if he appreciated that but he was better than the Argentinian man who had a full mouth of braces. Like, dude just get invisalign, adult braces are not okay. We also came up with the brilliant idea that the two of us along with another friend should definitely have our own reality show. Although I don’t know if we would have wanted our eating habits publicized after a steady stream of wine and then miller high life. We passed a Checkers on the way home, and bought enough food and dairy products to feed more than just the two of us. Then when getting off the subway near my apartment we realized we also wanted Popeye’s and decided to go inside. Here’s the thing though, even that drunk we were fully ashamed of our disgusting eating habits and knowing how fat we were being, hid the checkers bag so people inside Popeye’s wouldn’t know that we had already been to another fast food joint. As if the people in a Popeye’s located on the line between Bedstuy and Bushwick at 2 in the morning would even care about that; they likely have much worse things to be ashamed of. As soon as we arrived back at my apartment, we set up our living room slumber party, put on stretchy pants and an episode of Glee, and proceeded to devour all of the food. Disgusted with ourselves we spoke of throwing up despite not really know how to make it happen, but instead fell asleep with full bellies. We awoke early in the morning to a muggy apartment. “Ugh, I am never eating again.” Said Shishell, to which I replied, “I’m hungry. I think I’ll have some yogurt!”

The worst part? I am not even mad. That fast food was fucking delicious.

Anderson Out.

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