All the Chips are Down

So, what did you have for dinner last night? Oh, really? That sounds great. Me?
Oh, you know, Potato Chips.
That's right folks, Potato Chips. More specifically Sour Cream and Dill Kettle Chips.

I was all ready to make dinner (this is a complete lie, I barely walked into the door before collapsing) and my lovely wife (she of the stolen bike)sang me a beautiful siren song that went a little something like this:

"Hey, husband, why don't we sit have a drink, some chips and start a movie?"

And like Odyseus I sailed blithly to the couch, family size potato chips and drink in hand for a brief respite before cooking our cabbage curry.

Fifty three minutes into the movie (we'll get to that later) we had eaten 7/8ths of the bag of chips and were both clutching our guts bemoaning our folly. Had we ashes to rub in our hair and garments to rend, we would have.

I suggested that I could make dinner now, but with 32 pounds of potato, salt and oil in our systems the ass-groove in the couch took on a nearly magnetic quality and there we sat for another hour and a half.

If that was not evidence enough of my capacity for self destruction the movie we watched (with a brief intermission to watch the gilmore girls (!))was of the most embarrassing kind.

Here is a run-down of the various qualities the movie had to offer.

Straight to video (should be a deal breaker right there)
From the Makers of American Pie (see above)
A sequel (really?)
involving camp, hidden cameras and dick jokes (I am no longer 17...or Adam Sandler)
and it is called: Band Camp

To say this was a bad movie is unfitting. It was misogynistic, sophomoric and racist. But, hell, I couldn't tell. I was in a Kettle Chip and burbon fugue state, my own Million Little Pieces.

I woke up this morning, my hands still smelling of the nights excesses, my gut still growning under the weight of the starchy, salty, crunchy-ness and like a frat boy waking up with puke in his hair holding a half empty can of Dinty Moore Beef Stew and lying on a pile of dead Blatz cans, I vowed never to do that again.

After all the people at American Pie must be done by now.