It’s 1:30am at the moment. Who knows when I’ll actually get this posted, but there’s some video game tournament going on in the room next to me, so I’m wide awake. I don’t know if I enjoy posting the food that I consume here on a daily basis or if it just makes me sad. I’m thinking sad.
Lucky Charms and chocolate milk was my dinner on Monday night. I figured it was the healthiest option compared to the fried catfish in a mysterious brick shape, the chicken bruschetta pizza, or the baked stuffed pork chop weighing in at around 430 calories. And that’s without gravy.
I wanted to attempt to eat well, so I went and got some fruit cocktail.
“Fruit.” There are (allegedly) grapes, peaches, pineapple, pears, and cherries in there. The first person to correctly identify them all wins.
I had an anatomy quiz this morning so I wanted to eat beforehand. Ah yes, it’s our good friend 156% daily value of cholesterol omelet! Whatever. I needed sustenance. The meat marketed as “frizzled ham” was pretty good and the potatoes made me reminisce on better times when there were undercooked hashbrowns instead of those sketchy chunks. The dinning halls got a new brand of coffee which I proceeded to spill all over my pants and hardly anyone said anything. My friends are unfazed by me at this point, which is really nice. It only took me five months to break them in. But I totally aced anatomy and got to poke at different parts of a skeleton’s arm with a stick when naming bones. My lab group finished early and while we were waiting for everyone else to be done I started making up a song to the tune of Don’t Go Breaking my Heart. I realized two things when I was trying to find a way to incorporate the abdominopelvic regions into it:
1. I need to get out of the house/dorm more.
2. I was half singing it all out loud and people were giving me weird looks.
No matter how many times I tried to take a good picture of this, it only made the food look grosser. The pulled pork actually only had 190 calories, 1 gram of carbs, and 9 grams of protein. Why I passed up the Big Ole Chicken Burrito that contained 500 calories and 54 carbs is beyond me.
And for the record, nothing in that song rhymes with epigastric, left hypochondriac, or inguinal region. Believe me. I already tried.