Chicken n' Biscuits

I'll admit it. I'm a sucker for a friend strip of chicken and a buttermilk biscuit. So the gods of fried chicken must have been smiling down on me, as a brand new Popeye's Chicken n' Biscuits has opened within walking distance of my home (Uh, I live on the North Shore...you think that shit would fly in Oakwood?). Unfortunately, the gods of digestion and the gods of fried chicken don't get along. I would insert some sort of Greek mythology reference, but that particular information left my brain sometime after freshman year English class.

You see, I'm a total glutton when it comes to fast food. I only allow myself to have it MAYBE once a week or every two weeks, so when I do get it, I order everything and then some. In the case of Popeyes, I figured 3 biscuits were better than 1 (and for .59 cents!). So yeah, I ate all that shit and then I ate some ice cream.

Now it's 1:30 am. I feel like I'm 8 months pregnant. I know I smell like fried chicken. Whatever..There are worse things I could smell like.

All of this reminds me of a specific incident that happened to me once in the Staten Island mall when I was about 12 years old. It was lunchtime in the food court, and my mom gave me like $6 to go get something from Roy Rogers (RIP Roy's..we miss you). I went up and ordered some ridiculous amount of chicken and had to go back to get more money from my mom, who figured I was ordering the 6 nuggets or something like that. Mind you this was lunch, not dinner. She begrudgingly gave me the money and told me that I was going to get fat if I kept eating that way.

I guess old habits die hard, as I reach for my Tums.