Grilled cheese sandwiches give me nightmares.

Yesterday I had a really great grilled cheese sandwich. HA. Jesus. Sorry. What a totally fucking lame thing to talk about. If anyone read that first sentence and said, "Really? Where?! What was it like?!?!" with even a slight hint of enthusiasm, you need a goddamn hobby or a hooker. (And if your hobby is hookers I'm not judging.) I went home feeling terrible about myself after eating the sandwich, biscuits with honey butter, a shitload of Freedom fries, some fried chicken, and drinking a handful of beers. I figured I'd have The Itis but for some reason I had trouble falling asleep. When I finally did I had bizarre nightmares. Like having to have conversations with rich people about life or getting married to a depressed chubby Australian girl. Those are just examples of what I think a nightmare is, not actual examples of the nightmares I had last night. I don't really remember them.

I woke up, went to work, pissed out of my ass a few times, and met up with my buddy Courtney. He told me that the previous night he was hanging out with a girl he knew and decided to get something to eat. He didn't really have any money so he went into the Chicken Shop (my name not his) to buy one leg. I guess the girl he was with thought it was weird. He asked me if I did. I'm really not sure if I think it's that weird. But here is what I did think about it.
Is eating a fried drumstick any more ridiculous than eating oats and honey or whatever the fuck granola bars are made out of? Wait. It's granola. But what the fuck is a granola?

I forget why I even mentioned my grilled cheese experience.