Feeling funky

As I lay in bed last night before falling asleep, I began thinking about why I was feeling so funky. I was really tired, but my stomach was keeping me awake -- I was just not feeling right.

I began to look back on my day. I’d spent the majority of it at a Charger game party. The outcome of the game was not as I’d hoped, but the party itself was a really good time. (We missed you, Jacquie!)

I then began to review what I’d consumed only hours earlier. What had I eaten that was making me feel so funky?

You can probably guess. Because you know what happens when you tell people to all bring a dish to share for a get together that involves watching football?

You get chili, five kinds of hot wings (BBQ, mild, medium, hot and hot), a giant bowl of tortilla chips with 5 layer dip, a giant bowl tortilla chips with that hot, melty nacho cheese sauce and jalepenos, and another giant bowl of tortilla chips with guacamole and salsa. This party also had some Greek influence (for whatever reason) with spanakopita and pita bread with hummus. And, okay, there was also an awesome BBQ turkey, that was carved and served for sandwiches, but the majority of the food offerings were crap. Total crap. And I ate some of (almost) all of it.

What is it about watching football and consuming crap? Why is it so ingrained in our national psyche? It’s some sort of twisted national sickness that should be seriously evaluated.

I’ve had it with the wings and nachos, for the Superbowl I’m going to raise the bar. I’m going to make Frito pie.