I am a healthy eater. I dislike sweets, and cook meals full of proteins and veggies. Workplace snacks usually consist of 100-calorie bags of popcorn, and if I’m hungry post-dinner, I eat some cheese and crackers. I don’t do fast food and I rarely drink soda. Once in a while, I indulge in something particularly unhealthy but I always manage to keep it to a minimum. Unless I am drunk, because then I am helpless.
I think there is a sliding scale of acceptable drunk snacking. It depends largely upon the amount of drunkeness, and the surroundings. Tipsy and at home is safe, because usually it just means I’m too lazy to put something together and I end up with crackers and water. Slightly drunk and out is not so bad because it means pretzels at the store, or most often, planning what to snack on in the cab ride home and talking myself into just going to bed. Absolutely hammered and home just means I’m going to pass out with some water and Advil; or maybe if I’m committed, I’ll warm up a couple pizza bagels or the frozen mac & cheese that has been in my freezer for 6 months. Still, though, not too bad. But then there are the times when I’m out and somehow or another, I’ve gotten ridiculously wasted.
When this happens, all I want is chips and dip. It is a mission. In Chicago, I verbally (and almost physically) accosted a convenience store cashier at 2am because of the store’s lack of dip. Chips and dip are a package. Stores should not be allowed to carry one without the other. It is rude and disrespectful to me, and dip producers when stores only carry chips. CVS does this, and I always forget until I am drunk-eyed, pacing the aisles looking for some french-onion or ranch to complement my Munchos (mmm..they taste like delicious, salty, greasy styrofoam).
After I go through the denial phase at the store, I move on to acceptance and try to find an adequate alternative. I always settle on tortilla chips and Tortilla’s queso in a jar and it is quite the opposite of a good idea. It is disgusting; and everytime I eat it, the next morning has me awakened with a gross feeling in my stomach and the knowledge that I probably took a month off of my life with every scoop of queso. For the following 2 months after the queso, everytime I see neon orange, I will get pangs of guilt and disgust, leading me to hate myself and the Tostito’s company, and all that anger can never be good.