Fatty Fatty McFat Fat

Coworker and I were going to go to the strip of eateries a couple of blocks away from the office at lunch today. Instead we see the following food truck:

Out of the way from the other food trucks, there was no line for the Gravy Train truck. It’s not everyday I eat poutine since I don’t live in Canadia, so it just seemed like the right thing to do.

I ordered the “All American”: tater tots with cheese curds, gravy topped with fried egg. Oh boy that was mistake. Almost immediately my brain seized.

Okay, it wasn’t a full on seizure, but I could feel the drips of fat coursing through my arteries and veins coagulating in my brain.

Both coworker and I commiserated in our pain. While it was mighty delicious going down the gullet, we were clearly paying for the wages of our foodie sins.

People gawked. They wondered what the fuck poutine was (all except our Froggie coworker who is from Montreal). When we explained it to them, I could feel their disgust coursing through their bodies as they judged us for our culinary debauchery.

But like I said, we paid for our excess. And those who judged us, well, they’re all fucking cunts, and they have to live with that.