THE SPIRIT OF SUNDAY: STUFFING YOUR FACE WHILE WATCHING FOOTBALL

Don't watch football on Sundays if you have low will power or an eating disorder: you'll never see so many commercials for awesome stuff like Dominos, Taco Bell, Wendys and Red Lobster in your life.

(By the way, the pizza NEVER looks that good when it comes to your door. Yeah, that's supposed to be Dominos. The thing they do, with the fucking cheese oozing like it is in that picture, is not physically possible. Instead, the pizza's always dry, dotted with a few of the unhealthiest green peppers and fakest sausage balls you've ever seen in your life. The delivery man hates his life, you hate your pizza, and everyone's having an awful time. It's false advertising at its worse). 

Needless to say I yesterday crumbled under the relentless barrage of artery-clogging advertising aimed at me and my 18-to-32-year-old middle-class male demographic brethren.

So I went to City Market and bought everything I needed for nachos. We're talking avocados, red onion, roma tomatoes, black beans, canned diced tomatoes with green chilis, fresh pico de gallo, sour cream, colby/monterrey jack and tortilla chips. 

I came home and got to work. But upon taking my stuff out of the bags, I realized I left my tortilla chips at the supermarket. Frustrated beyond all belief, I screamed, ripped off my shirt and repeatedly slammed the wall with my fist (there's now blood on the wall that I have yet to wash off). Then I took my car keys and went back to City Market.

Bloody, shirtless and desperate, I walked back into the supermarket and asked the bagger, some poor unwitting high schooler, what the fuck happened to my tortilla chips. With wide eyes, he pointed a shaky finger to the charity rack. Fuck that! I bought those tortilla chips for myself, not for the homeless. When the Boy Scouts come to my door asking me to donate a few cans of Campbell's Chunky, maybe we then can talk business. But now, I wasn't letting some stupid philanthropy come between me and nacho-city. 

(Note: I didn't even know Nacho City was a real place until I googled it just now. If the place has good schools and low taxes, I'm raising my family there one day).

Anyway, I came home and started working. The end result was glorious (see right).

That's right, baby. Nacho City was just a crater on the map after I came to town. I was definitely full afterwards (I used a whole bag of cheese. Eight fucking ounces) but had no regret. Only satisfaction. 

--CAPTAIN CHEDDARSTORM