SCREW heartburn!

I am no supporter of chain-style dinner restaurants, but Arthur was famished after Support Group tonight and insisted we stop at Sizzler. He claimed that it was his birthday. Normally, I abhor restaurants with such convoluted systems of signing in and taking plastic trays, but I was somewhat peckish as well and did not press the point.

The dish of the day was an option which enabled you to eat all of the fried shrimp that you cared to, and I took them up on that offer. I figured that all seafood carries Omega-3 fatty acids, and that it would be brain food. Plus, I could scrape the breading off and remove most of the oils and salt. That would leave me with seafood protein and vegetable-based marinara dipping sauce.

Woe is the consumer who tries to make gold where there is only betrayal. The dipping sauce proved enormously acidic, and left me with a case of acid reflux the likes of which you might only see on medical school horror video clip websites. I am ashamed to admit it but shortly after leaving the restaurant I had to pull over and ask Arthur, who seemed unaffected and in far too jovial of spirits, to man the wheel. Although he is an absolutely abysmal driver we did manage to finally screech and jerk our way to my abode, at which point I told him he could phone a cab and carried myself inside. I am only writing this now because the Bromo needs 15 minutes to settle before I lie down.

Goodnight. Pat.