crack for catholic fatties

Trying to laptoplessly service the spike in assignments has kept me running downtown and back several times a day lately. Coupled with nervousness over the house refinance – I’ve been in a mood to blog. Today’s my Wednesday off, time to catch my breath and not-blog.

I don’t consider myself a catholic… Hell.. I “vaguely” consider myself a Christian these days.

However I was raised in a Catholic household, and even though my parents were “E.C. Catholics” (Only goes to mass on Easter and Christmas). It’s surprising, and somewhat creepy, how the Catholic faith imprints on children.

Today at the ripe old age of 32, I still catch myself wanting to genuflect at the appropriate time and, (more relevant to this post), inexplicably craving fish sandwiches during lent. (Thankfully I was able to get past guilt over masturbating.)

St. Louis’ demographic leans heavy toward Catholic and the fast food chains know this. Every one of them is now pushing fish sandwiches on billboards and banners – even restaurants that normally don’t carry fish.

We stopped by Rally’s last night after picking Chad up from his double shift. They’re promoting a double-fish sandwich which turned out to be the most sublime thing I ever stuck in my mouth. A double-decker breaded cod mountain of love with shredded lettuce and goopy tube-tartar-sauce.

You’d have to fish sandwich fanatic to really understand.

Basking in the deep-fried afterglow I started pondering this odd seasonal fish disorder I have and figured it’d not be blog worthy.