Here chicky chicky...

I'm in Memphis today.  Tomorrow, North Carolina.  Last week, Alabama.  The week before that, Dallas.  This is my life.  At some point, I told someone at work, "I enjoy traveling."  The next thing I know, they started beating me to death with my own stick.  I still enjoy it, but I miss the family.  So I find things to fill the void.  Mostly edible things.  In an ever-expanding void.

Last time I was in Memphis (about six weeks ago), I noticed this place:

It was closed, because it was late.  But next door, I noticed this place:

Drawn in by neon and creamy filling, I got myself some donuts.  Some.  They were good.

Tonight, I decided to go back to this place:

It was amazing.  I don't even order fried chicken normally, but since there was a picture of a chicken on the sign, I got the chicken.  It was amazing.

After my chicken(s), I went to this place (again):

I ordered a cream filled donut.  I told the dude behind the counter, "I'm only getting two."  Meaning, "I only want two donuts, so no need for the box.  I know I'm stout."  I then ordered my jelly filled.  That one was for later.  As in minutes, not hours.  I paid my cash money and returned to my car.

When I dove my hand into the sackful of goodness, I discovered that a misunderstanding (possibly because of the visual cues provided to my donut host, such as the disappearance of my belt) had left me with an EXTRA CREAM FILLED DONUT.  Score.  Two for now.  One for right before I hurl.  Excellent.

The other night, I mentioned to Erin that one of the downsides of getting old is that everything that happens to your body now is permanent.  If you fall and twist an ankle, that ankle will ache before thunderstorms for the rest of your life.  Cut your skin shaving?  You now have a new line on your neck that forever reminds you that one morning, you forgot to screw the blade down tight on your old timey razor.

The same thing may be happening with my weight, I fear.  Each donut and filet is now permanently affixed to my being.  No hope of it ever going away at this point.

One of the unintentional side effects of my constant travel is that I'm feeling more and more like I'm living a corporately funded "Leaving Las Vegas," but with donuts and fried chicken instead of booze (mostly).  Tonight as I returned to the hotel, the desk clerk looked down as I walked in, shaking his head a little bit.  When I got to my room, I discovered I had icing all over my nose.  I suppose maybe he thought it was something else, but either way, it was shameful.  I was sniffling a lot and licking my upper lip frantically.  I understand his concerns.

It's about time for cream filled, #2.  Excellent.