Eat Food. Not Too Much. Mostly Plants. Die Unhappy

Alright, it's gotta be said. Kirsten has pointed out time and again that I eat badly. And of course, she's not the only one: Sean used to say I was the only person he knew who ate fruit straight from a can. Countless co-workers have said that my love of Hungry Man's one-pound microwave dinners was "weird," "nauseauting," or on at least two occasions, "grounds for termination." Even when I worked at Wendy's, my creation of the Heart Attack Pita (ground beef grilled and cut into strips, sauteed onions, french fries, grated American cheese, and barbecue sauce, all on a warm thick flatbread) was viewed with equal parts disgust and suspicion.

Whatever.

But with "In Defense of Food" Michael Pollan has given Kirsten research data that PROVES that what I'm eating is kiiling me. And as a trained scientist, I have to respect data, even if it proves that my most closely-held beliefs (i.e. that Long John Silver's is perfectly fine and that Hot Pockets aren't THAT bad) are wrong.

I hate you, Michael Pollan. I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you. And now I want a Junior Bacon Cheeseburger Hot Pocket, served on a bed of fresh honey buns. With a Diet Coke.