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Let me paint an honest picture for ya'll this week. As I write this, it's 3:23 am in the morning. I'm sitting here typing in one of my Nu-Way t-shirts and some plain white drawers. There's no light on in the house other than the light emanating from my computer. Everyone else is sound asleep, and will be for another two to three hours. Everyone, that is, except me.

I'm sure some of ya'll are wondering, 'Ed, why are you up at this time of the night?' And the answer is very simple - I'm an idiot. A pure-T, grade A idiot. I'm so stupid that I make the guy that runs North Korea look like Einstein. Or better yet, Einstein and da Vinci put together.

The reason why I'm writing a column at 3:34 am in the morning? It's really quite simple. I was over in Jones County earlier this evening speaking to a group. The meeting started at 7 pm, and since I had worked out at the Wellness Center beforehand, I really wasn't very hungry during the meeting. Consequently, I didn't eat much while I was there.

As fate would have it, when the meeting ended, around 8:30 pm or so, I started noticing that I was getting hungry. As a result, I said my goodbyes, got in the car, and started driving back to Macon. And in the ten minutes or so that it took me to get there, I decided I wanted some Mexican food.

Mexican food. At nine pm at night. I love Mexican food, but I'm wondering what sort of stupidity demon lodged itself into my brain. Whatever it was, it caused me to pull into a Mexican restaurant and consume the following:

One small guacamole salad.
Two tacos.
One chile relleno.
One order of refried beans.
One order of spanish rice.
Even more guacamole on the side to dip the chips in.
Oh, and the salsa for those chips. Nice, hot, spicy salsa.

I know what ya'll are thinking. But the bad part is, it gets even worse. For some reason, I was still hungry after eating such a large dinner. Therefore, I decided that a good, old fashioned banana split would be just the thing to top things off. I proceeded to cruise on over to the nearest Dairy Queen, where I ordered and inhaled a banana split. I mean it, I socked it down in less than five minutes. After that, I went home, my belly full and a tad proud of myself, like I'd snuck one over on Deb or something. I then took a quick shower, got into bed, and went to sleep. Until now.

Why do I do stuff like this? I've basically declared citizenship in the bathroom for the past half hour, and I may never eat another banana split again. My stomach is growling like a small animal is being tortured inside it. Also, for some strange reason, my upper lip is sweating, and it even feels like my hair is hurting. I've mentally cussed myself for the past hour or so, and I still feel rotten. Please excuse me...

...I'm back - just reacquainted myself with the bathroom again. Sometimes, the most rotten experiences can lead you to the most profound revelations, and I've learned the following from this one:

1. Never, ever, eat salsa and follow it up with ice cream. Never. You might as well eat the creosote off a fence in terms of how good it is for you, in fact, it's probably better for you.

2. When your stomach starts rumbling really bad, never take the stance that if you lay really still it'll calm down and go away. What actually happens is that you go halfway back to sleep and then the mother of all pains hits you. And that's when the term 'a quick awakening' has very special significance.

3. Don't be stupid enough to do something like this and tell anyone. Worse yet, don't be crazy enough to write it down for people to read.

And there you have it - some self-induced angst, and some new found revelations. I guess I'll try and go back to sleep. It's four fifteen am, and I may be slowly rejoining the world of the living. At least my stomach has calmed down a tad, or I'm hoping it has. So goodnight, sleep tight, and don't let the hot salsa bite...