Gorging in the name of...

Spent the last three days on the road with the magazine's photographer shooting an incredible amount of photos for our upcoming Roadtrip Food feature. Basically, this involves driving to some of the smallest towns in the state to take pictures of large amounts of fried food and sugar, and then eating said food after the restaurant owners twist my arm. OK, maybe there's not so much twisting, but it's hard not to feel guilty when they say the food's going to go to waste. In the past three days, I have pumped an insane amount of crap into my body. Here's the tally. Day 1: 1 corn dog, about 20 onion chips (1 onion chip is basically half an onion ring), 1 peanut butter milkshake, a few bites of a Wagon Wheel sundae (vanilla ice cream, hot fudge, caramel, banana slices, whipped cream, and a cherry), 1 fried chicken drumstick, 3 fried green tomatoes, and 1 order of cheese grits with red-eye gravy (chopped ham, coffee grounds and brown sugar). Day 2: 1/2 of a gigantic "garbage" omelet (scrambled eggs, a heaping portion of shredded cheese, ham, potatoes, and mushrooms) with hot sauce, 3 pieces of french toast, 1 coney-style hot dog, 1/2 of a pork tenderloin sandwich (see photo), a medium twist soft serve cone, and some homemade potato chips. Day 3: 4 beef enchiladas, tortilla chips and salsa, 1/2 of an elephant ear (basically dough rolled flat and fried with sugar sprinkled on it), 1 chocolate milkshake, another 1/2 tenderloin sandwich, 3 chicken wings, and 1 large Coke (notice how I restrained myself today). Of course, then I followed that all up tonight with a trip to Zoobilation, a fundraiser for the Indy Zoo where loads of local restaurants set up booths throughout the zoo and serve samples of their food. I ate at about three booths and then gave up and turned my attention to making fun of all the fake-baked trophy wives from Carmel. I did run into Rupert from Survivor though, so the night wasn't a total waste. (At this point, those of you unable to pick up on written sarcasm might want to re-read that last sentence.) Needless to say, I'm giving my stomach a rest by fasting this weekend, as we have two more trips on Monday and Tuesday to finish shooting the story. I could try to restrain myself, but really, where's the fun in that?

On a completely random and strange note, I've begun using the name of Jaime Moreno, DC United's star striker, as a curse, in the vein of "Jesus Christ!" Why would I possibly do this, you may wonder? Well, the reason is twofold. One, it's far less blasphemous, if that sort of thing bothers you. Personally, saying "Goddamn it" doesn't make me bat an eye, but I feel some sort of strange Catholic guilt about taking Christ's name in vain (all the more strange because I'm not now, nor have ever been, Catholic). Must be all that Sunday School trauma sticking with me. The second reason is that shouting "Ay! Jaime Moreno!" when something upsets me has a vaguely Latin flair, and makes me seem very worldly and sophisticated. I've noticed many ladies giving me the eye after just such a curse. Although it's quite possible they may just be looking to see who's the crazy person in the room. Either way, they're still checking me out...