The epicurean delights of "The Last Supper"

This past weekend came and went, and I did some damage: 1 delicious Boar's Head grilled hotdog, 2 scrumptious chargrilled burgers, 9 slices of the most delicious pizza ever, an entire big bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, one 7-11 turkey sandwich with Southwestern mayo, 20 peices of homemade sushi, chips and salsa, chocolate fondue, 10 heaping mouthfulls of Reece's Peices, parmesan cheese, and about 25 beers over a beautiful Daytona 500 weekend.

I thought I'd go out with a bang... I guess it was a special occasion of some sorts. Call it my last hoorah of decadence. My binge on the fringe. Or in the fridge, for that matter. I know that it won't be the last time that I'll be able to indulge--heck, I get one free day to eat what I want per week. I doubt that I'll even eat half of that stuff in seven days. I guess it was just "for old times sake" to stuff myself. Perhaps it was to remind myself of how awful I can feel after stuffing my gluttonous gut with crap that makes me breathe heavy when I button my jeans. Did I mention it was delicious?