It is finished

I have really just beat the hell out of this topic, but I feel like it needs to be wrapped up.

First of all, if you have never had the chance to visit the original KFC on 3900 so state in SLC, you are missing out on a rather marvelous dining experience. Unless you despise KFC food, (which I do) because in that case, the original KFC is just a kitchy place to clog your arteries.

I'd say, overall, the double down was a let down. I fully suspected it to be way more disgusting than what it was. I thought half way though I'd be suffering some moderate heart pains. That maybe I'd wake up the following morning with a large, purplish bruise over the heart region of my chest. Psh, none of that even happened.

Mostly the double down just left me wishing that the negligible portion of bacon had been way less negligible. You could practically see through it, and therefore it added no flavor whatsoever to the complete meatwich.

I found myself thinking, "Okay. Next time, I'll ask for less sauce, and extra bacon." Immediately after which, I thought, "You idiot. There will never BE a next time. You (I) don't hate your (my) body (buddy) THAT much."

I ate a double down, drank 2 pepsis, had a small carton of potato logs, and then half a pint of frozen custard. Oh, and a kazoozle. I felt like if I was going to abuse myself, I might as well pull out all the stops. But about 1 am I was feeling guilty, and so went running down town.

Maybe that's why I didn't wake up with the purple bruise.


Just a monument to the colonel. May he weather the eternities enshrined in bronze.

Everyone that was hoping for a heart attack, but didn't even get one heart attack.