feel awful falafel friday.

the sequence went a bit out of order,
but the end result was the same.
what?
oh.
fridays are usually big fun over at my real job.
busy business amongst the b!tchbags and bog-monsters
that perpetuate my movie-check-wrecking income generation.
y'know?
lots of work, lots of people, lots (but certainly not all) of those bodily fluids.
yuck.
the thing of it is-
by friday night, when i'm headed home alone, to remain alone,
within the deep silence of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
i'm usually pretty spent, and all the pent up energy i began the day with
has dissipated into an oral atmospheric area-effect
of something along the lines of a loquacious laser lightshow.
a lot of talking, and joking, and loud, fresh, hardness escapes from my face
over the course of a day navigating the obstacle course i call a job.
so,
usually,
i already feel a little awful....
but,
a little awful won't really cut it, now, will it?
nope.
you know the story by now, neighbors-
rules is rules.
and when it comes to woodsly goodsly warrior poetry in it's purest pugilistic practice-
too much is the right amount.
which really just means there's still worse ways to feel,
and that that's worth exploring.
to that end, i'll ask that you now check the teleport:

one very burly homemade explosion of flavor, texture, and mass.
and with the fattie-boombattie foldover?

you like that thickness, huh?
i'm gettin' into gettin' all the way heavy.
the lemon level on that jammie goes to eleven, and then some.
citrus is good for you, i think.
and falafels are great for you.
what's that now?
why are my sandwiches so big?
ew.
c'mon, duders.
big is what's up.
i make 'em molto grande, because i want the best there is....
and more is always better, after all.
i felt pretty flippin' full after the first one,
but i wasn't about to go against the cardinal rule of feel awful falafel friday.
no way.
and that's why i doubled down on a whole other dispensation of deep-fried dopeness.
teleport:

burly.
that's the way i doo-doo my f''laf'' thing.
real talk.
and the fold on this one?

...so fat.
my chick pea jauns are off the charts,
and now,
so are my farts!
hahah.
you guys are so immature.
then again, i'm not really joking.
oh, stop.
it's just that there's SO much garlic in 'em,
i'm immune to vampires, mosquitoes, and women,
and all after just one meal.
if i'm not mistaken, i think that's what we call being expert....?
awfulness is in my predisposed infinite nature.
like,
woven into the fiber of my internal fires an' that.
i can only surmise that that's the reason i'm so good at it.
yup.
great food as a means to feeling lousier?
that's high-concept activation right there.
i do it.
i'm doing it.
it gets done.
and there's sure to be so much more of all of it,
which is the most comfortingly upsetting notion i take to bed every night.
hard styles,
hot food,
nutrients,
and detriments,
it's all really happening,
always;
never quiet, never soft.....