Next week I'm going to California for work. I'm staying at a hotel that gives out free cookies (but does not involve two trees). And that hotel is right across the street from an In-N-Out. Some of you on the good coast might not know about In-N-Out, but let me try to explain it to you. Imagine what McDonald's would've been if Ray Kroc decided to sell cars instead of milkshake machines. Too obscure? Ok, imagine Chick-Fil-A and Wendy Thomas had to raise Tim Horton's baby. That baby would sell hamburgers, expand slowly, treat its employees well, use high(-er) quality ingredients, and put biblical references on cup rims. A guy named Donny turned me onto the place. My favorite thing about the place is the simplicity of its menu. It's absolute fast-food perfection.
So I'll be working all day, having dinner and a few drinks with colleagues, and then settling down with a good burger and some free cookies. This will happen all 4 nights (or more, if I can't make it through lunch). It's got FAT WEEK written all over it. Oh, and I'll be doing this once a month for the next 6 months or so.
At least that's what would've happened if I hadn't made a commitment to fitness. Sure, I'm not going to leave Cali without a burger; and yes, I'll be eating out every night and I'll be socially and professionally compelled to have a drink. But I'll plan for it. I'll make it to the hotel gym in the mornings, and I'll stay near my target calorie intake.
And if the In-N-Out bURGEr strikes, I blame Donny. Shut the fuck up, Donny.
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