12 oz of happiness and no motorcycle to prove it.
Your Daughter of Anarchy bailed on the moto expo. I found out it cost over $15 and I could not get myself to pay for it. I am sorry. Well, not really sorry to you as much as to myself because of my lack of self control at lunch.
My roommate, Swedish Lief (thanks to CatholcGelt's random name generator) got her car detailed. With two hours to waste and a mealtime to fill, we headed over to a local pub for burgers, a major no-no on my acceptable food list.*
Swedish Lief ordered the mushroom and caramelized burger while I got the jumbo 12 oz. burger with fried jalapenos and fried onions. Plus sweet potato fries, which came on the house since our waiter forgot to include them.
About 6 oz into the meal, my small mouth couldn't handle eating any more meat, bread, or potatoes. It seriously concerned me that I might get locked jaw from this seven inch tall behemoth. My roommate would have no such nonsense. "Eat your pickle. All of it!" For each additional ounce I consumed, my happiness quotient deteriorated in the opposite direction.
To cap it all off, Swedish Lief grabbed the bill and wrote, "Call me, <insert my phone number>" at the bottom. And then made a run for the door. **
*Over the last six months, my strict diet of meat, grass, and no exercise has helped me lose 25 lbs. Please consult your WebMD before following any advice herein as I only take credit for gained weight and gelato-induced bliss.
**I do not condone this behavior, but the waiter made a "that's what she said" joke. And since I laughed, Swedish Lief names this an act of flirtation.