and she said.. "how you interpret the dream is probably more important than the dream itself"

I got tricked into eating cheese.. and on the first goddamn day of my anticheeseestablishment run, too. First things first, it was Wendy's so I had a hard time saying no in the first place. I put in my order like a Zombie, of course, cause I don't even need to think anymore to know what I'm gonnna get there. In fact I make change in my sleep, in the dark, for my eventual trips to Wendy's. I put in an order on this particular day for lunch variation #2. I only have 2. #2, the antifood variation, substitutes evil little pieces of chicken for what Wendy and me like to call a side salad... course, if you've ever hung out with Wendy and had one of her side salads you know it really _is_ a side salad cause the main course is the dressing. I swear to god if anyone out there pours that whole package of dressing on their side salad bring them down, step them right up because I have a hammer that I need to hit them in the face with.

NOTE to you dumbass people out there: DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT put that entire package of dressing on your side salad.

Sheesh. Like putting your newborn in a woman's tall mink coat. Overkill, honey, Overkill.

So I had the side salad as usual, pushing the giant bag of oil and spices off to the side of my tray, and I had a Jr. Bcn Cheeseburger, too. Now, this is where my problem arouse - cheeseburger no longer means cheese in my head. I have been tricked for so long by Wendy and Mr. King and that McDonald guy down the street - tricked into thinking that if the word cheese appears in the name of the product and if maybe they put a little orange square of chemicalness somewhere within the product than that means all is good, and that despite the fact that there is in fact NO cheese whatsoever, I should be happy, nay, pleased even, that they even got my order right in the first place. Yeah.. right. So I didn't think twice in my zombie state when I said Jr. Bcn Cheeseburger and a Medium Fry, please. Every time I order a medium fry they just give me a box with a bunch of tiny ones in it. What the fuck is up with that?

So I ate cheese. So kill me. It was at noon yesterday and I'll make it up to you, okay? Fine. So what did I say? No cheese for two weeks? Alright.. alright.. I'll give you three weeks now. Are you happy?!? No cheese in Montreal. No cheese at the Jazz Fest. No cheese at the Bball game. No cheese.