JUMP AROUND TOO MUCH AND YOUR BLOOD WILL GET BUBBLY

No more potatoes!

I recently proclaimed to the world that my favourite food is fries. I realized this when I took notice of just how many fries I eat. "Salad or fries?" FRIES. If I'm at a hamburger cafe and I'm not that hungry but I still want a burger, I get fries with it no matter what. I can't live without fries but I'll frequently eat lunch without a drink, much to the chagrin of those around me who feel they need to "water down" their own lives.

I can see the damn wires

So if I eat fries like crazy then why did I write that title? Well, as you may have read yesterday, my stomach has been giving me some heinous guff lately and in trying to discover what's causing it, I realized that I eat potatoes almost every day.

Last week I think I might have had fries every day. I don't even mean to. The thing is, fries have gotten really good around here lately. No one does frozens anymore! If you don't have a fresh cut crispy on your menu then I'm going somewhere else, because sister, they ain't too hard to find. Heck, I could walk downstairs and get some right now (I live above a popular cafe that serves pan-Asian cuisine. And yeah, they got good fries. See?). And don't get me started on breakfast potatoes. Those hold my weekend morning plates together, giving my day a savoury edge that things like yogurt and raisins just can't provide.

Hash browns, mashed potatoes, fries, chips, scalloped potatoes, potato salad, potato latke. That's just me naming potato dishes off the top of my head and in the last three weeks I've had every variety listed except for scalloped, no joke. So I gotta lay off the spuds and see what happens. Holy shit I hope I'm wrong.

Imagine you went to a doctor and you asked it about the mysteries of your stomach trouble and he said "this is probably a case for a detective, not a doctor." I bet Sherlock Holmes would've figured this out a long time ago. Whenever he got sick he'd just look at his butt hole in the mirror and ten minutes later he'd know the cause. Was Sherlock Holmes ever wrong? Was Columbo ever wrong? I'm going to write a story about a detective who always gets it wrong. How will he make up for this? By accidently befriending every suspect and turning them into better people. Actually, that sounds a lot like Inspector Gadget. Now that guy was an idiot. I guess Inspector Clouseau got shit wrong too. Damn, for like, a few minutes there I thought I had a good idea.

I reacted the same way as this popular detective when I ate a hot pepper!

Hopefully this passes soon so I can get back to talking about my life as a Formula One champion, but my mind simply isn't on the points race right now. If you went back to Medieval Times and had the choice of bringing and F1 car with infinity gas, but you don't get to wear shoes, or having the best and most comfortable pair of boots and infinity gum, which would you choose? Keep in mind, an F1 car ain't no Jeep. Food for thought. Eat it. Digest it. Breath out some math.