Surprisingly Delicious

I’ve been a very naughty girl lately.  (I’ll get to my irritation with the linked good vs naughty characterization of food someday when my shorts aren’t a bit more snug than I’d like.)  Yes, my last post was for my love of eating out and this one is going to be as well.  This was a wee bit different; I spent about fifteen hours in my car during the past couple of days.

On campus interview at Miami University (the one in Ohio).  Driving was cheaper than flying but lord-a-mighty!  Between the drive-a-thon and the nine hour interview my brain’s a limp noodle and all I want to do is sleep.

And sleep.

And sleep.

But I won’t.  I have a passport to get processed and odds and ends to get done before I blink again and it’s Sunday.

Whoa.  Sidetracked just al little bit.

Back to Miami.  (And not Will Smith’s ‘Welcome to Miami,’ Miami.)  Oxford, Ohio: a really nice small town in the middle of agrarian hell.  My best friend worked at the University once upon a time and since the day I told her that I would be traveling there, she’s had one consistent mantra: BAGEL N DELI, BAGEL N DELI, BAGEL AND DELI.

Being the kind soul I am, I volunteer to go to this mythical land of ‘Bagel and Deli’ at some point during my less than twenty four hours in Oxford.

I’m so glad I did. 

Per her recommendation, I had the Cosby.  While it also probably promoted it’s blockage, my heart sang loudly and (because this is me we’re talking about) way off key.

This is happiness on an onion bagel.

I don’t like onion bagels.

A mound of roast beef, bacon, cheddar, lettuce, tomato and mayo piled on that hot onion bagel really was the perfect amount of cheesy beefy goodness.  They steam the bagels and that is where the happiness comes from.  The whole lot ends up this warm, chewy amalgamation with a happy little crunch from the simple iceberg lettuce.

There is no picture.  I ate it too fast.

I know where I’ll be living should I actually manage to get this job.

Livin’ Life in the Drive Thru

So lately I’ve been spending entirely too much time in the mystical land of drive through.  I have a special affinity for the digestive mecca that is Taco Bell, but have been known to stop by a Taco John’s when I have the inclination.

Potato Oles have a particularly place in my hot fried potato nirvana.

Question is: What’s there to feel guilty about?

I mean…there are circumstances in my day-to-day life that make eating at home at once uncomfortable and worthy of aversion.  Yes, my budget does get strained mightily by my escapades in taco-burger-diet Coke land, but I’ll live with it until environmental situations change.

I won’t get into it here as a) entirely too much pathetic involved and b) while I don’t expect related parties to actually read this-or anyone for that matter-I maintain a healthy respect for the open book that is the interwebs.  Some discretion is called for and I will heed that.

So, back to the topic at hand…the guilt I end up feeling every time I pull up to the grated voice box to place my order of fat-o-rama.

The voice in the back of my head that’s saying: NO NO NO NO.

Ethically, I would like to say that I avoid McDonald’s as often as possible.

Honestly, that would be a lie.

It’s food. It gets me from point a to point be without much thought.  There’s a certain appeal to that, I will admit. 

I do miss having the freedom to play in MY kitchen (and to suffer the consequences of ill advised playground antics).  I guess that’s the guilt and I’m working on improving that situation as soon as possible.

Annoying, this is the truth, but I can live through it.

So I’ll embrace my guilt, I suppose and strive to explore new drive-thru options the next time I hit the road.