The gal and I were feeling wild so we deiced to hop in the Jeep, blast 6lack and do something that I haven’t done in years, go to a drive-thru. Yes, I’m talking about fast-food. I don’t know what possessed me to order churro-bites or what greasy wet-dream lead to my honey ordering fries, but whatever fantasy got us to the window was quickly interrupted once the first bites went down. I never thought in my entire life that my stomach would reject “food” (or whatever they want to label it) but it totally happened. I ate two bites, the gal ate half of her small order of fries and we were both regretting it almost immediately. 

It’s wild how my body reacted to what used to be my daily diet and has now turned the lab-born-substance into an intruder. And this was just from churro-bites, I don’t even want to imagine what would have happened if I ordered an actual meal (enter poop emoji). Like Trump and his ideology for a wall, my guts too have laid their bricks down to keep out all things foreign. 

It’s cool that we can laugh about this experience.