Today Was a Good?/Bad? Day: My Old Friend Roy and Grendel Prime

So this morning I had a meeting with someone about refinishing the floors in the apartment. It should come out looking real good particularly if I can get a painter in there some time soon. This afternoon I headed down south to meet up with a guy I buy some statues off of to pick up my long sought after Grendel Prime. It made for an interesting afternoon.

This guy has got a cool little store that he didn't have when I first met him, and we hung out there and bullshit for awhile. It was cool to talk to someone about this stuff I'm collecting. Someone who shares a common interest in the hobby. We headed over to his parent's house to check out the Grendel Prime and a few other things. This guy easily has $100,000 worth of stuff in his parent's basement...bare minimum I would say. And here we are tripping over things trying to track down one single specific box in a barely organized pile of several thousand. Now obviously he wants me to buy as much as I can so that he makes a few bucks and obviously I want to buy as much as I can because, well, because I'm me. But instead I find myself being almost selective and really only buying what I came to look at. So several times I said thanks, but no thanks, I don't want to spend that much...and then I quickly had to look around to make sure I was actually the one who said that.

I got what I wanted and started to head home. But it was several hours later than I had planned on heading out and I hadn't eaten at all today. I was starving. And there, lo and behold, was a Roy Rogers.

Now let me give you a little background on my old friend Roy. There used to be a Roy Rogers less than ten minutes from my mom's house. My dad used to take us there when we were kids. It was the first place I tasted fried chicken, first place I had a bacon cheeseburger, first place I ate so damn much I nearly hurled. Yeah, me and Roy go way back. It was also a place that held a lot of fond memories for me because it was one of those places I associated with spending time with my father back when spending time with my father didn't consist of several hours of him yelling at me and me trying not to get yelled at. (Come to think of it, even then that's how it was with my father. It just bothered me less. It wouldn't get out of hand as often because back then he could just pop us one and we'd shut up or he could just drop us off with our mom and be gone. I'd like to see him try either of those things now.) But Roy Rogers was a place I was sad to see go when they started closing up in North Jersey.

So here I am, having a great day crusing down the highway when I see my first full fledged Roy Rogers restaurant in nearly ten years. This wasn't one of those truck stop Roy Rogers, no no. This was classic Roy Rogers. My kind of Roy Rogers. And I missed it. But here I was on a diet specifically designed to stop me from eating at places like...you guessed it, Roy Rogers. It's been three months. Three months and I've followed everyone of my damn rules. (They are pretty simple truth be told.) 1. No red meat. (No pork either really). 2. No fried foods. 3. No regular soda (the odd diet soda is allowed, but no regular soda and nothing really sugary either. No candy or junk food at all). Three months and I've stuck to everyone of those rules...and it's not making much of a difference. I mean I am losing weight little by little, and I reckon I'm healthier. But...

I wish I could say that today I stuck to my guns. Wish I could say I drove right past that Roy Rogers. But the truth is I didn't. Truth is I ordered two pieces of fried chicken and a diet coke, and enjoyed it immensely. I kept trying to justify it to myself. (It's a reward for doing good. It's only two pieces. It's all you've had to eat today. Just once isn't going to kill you.) But the truth is I simply failed. I knew I was going to. Didn't even really argue with myself. I know I won't be breaking again anytime soon. I certainly don't feel guilty, that's not the sort of thing I do. But I know I failed. And I know I'll fail again. And the truth is it doesn't bother me all that much. You fall down, you get up again. And this isn't even a spill, just a stumble. Right back to no fat cottage cheese and steamed asparagus. Less of course they open a Roy Rogers in my neighborhood. Then all bets are off.