Won't be getting those again

There isn't a whole lot I regret in my life.  I'm a forward-thinker, an optimistic, glass-half-full kind of girl.  I mean, sure, there were some questionable hair styles back in the 80s, and some glasses that I wish weren't quite so big.  And colorful.  But you know, all in all, I've been pretty lucky to be able to look around, shrug, and say, "Eh, no regrets."

Well, until today.

I hereby declare that I absolutely, positively, undeniably regret ordering the hot-sauce-laden buffalo nachos for lunch.  I met my friend Dana, and we did our usual split of a giant tray of buffalo chos.  We can get enough nachos to feed an army plus two giant soft drinks for eleven bucks.  Can't beat it.

Today, whilst consuming aforementioned nachos, Dana remarked, "Boy, these are hotter than normal."  I gulped down some tea and nodded in agreement.  "Yeah, we're light on the chicken and heavy on the hot sauce."

Not that it slowed either of us down.

Nom. Nom. Nom.

Fast forward an hour.  Stomach is rumbly.  Ohhhhh boy.  A mad dash to the bathroom, and, well, "Shit!"  (Yes, pun intended.)

Needless to say, after liberally dousing the bathroom with air freshener (so now it smells like ass AND cinnamon apple pie - yay!), shutting down my computer and bolting out the door, I'm now working comfortably at home.  Where I can stink up my own bathroom and wear elastic-waisted pants in comfort.

Yeah.

Happy Cinco de Uh Oh!