A painful lesson

I love hot dogs, but sometimes the ones you love don't love you back, in this case it was a Colorado dog at a Avalanche hockey game. Being a Detroit Red Wings fan I could care less about the Ave's but I do enjoy the sport and it's a great excuse for hot dogs and beer. This is where this story goes south. A friend (an avid Ave's fan) and I were running late and decided to grab a bite at the the game. Two beers and two Colorado dogs. The Colorado dog has chili, melted cheese and jalapeños and I had some red onion thrown on for good measure. To most people this is a recipe for disaster but not for me, or so I thought. That fucking hot dog has haunted me for the past sixteen hours most of that time being spent on the toilet. I was almost late for work, I've been popping GasX like an addict and I'm still scared to death to eat anything, fearing it will not agree with the hot dog from hell. As I sit here writing this I realize there is a lesson to be learned. I now know I'm not 22 anymore, I can't eat whatever I want and I'm fatter than I should be. I have painfully come to understand the hot dog is not my friend anymore (at least not the ones with chili and jalapeños). I gambled and I lost and it took me almost shitting my pants to realize this, but hey there's still beer.