Comfort Confession

I woke up this morning at 5, desperately trying to justify staying in bed with my cat rather than going in to teach a hand full of students dreaming about mashed potatoes and stuffing.

OK let's be honest.

I was still a little drunk from last night. I've discovered that my upstairs neighbor bartends around the corner from our building. And he takes my marination seriously.

So last night, I needed an infusion and he was glad to oblige.

Except this morning I had to go into work. Normally I have coffee before my 8 am, but I just couldn't think of drinking that. So I got myself some Mountain Dew and found that the local bodega here has one of my all time favorite post drunken guilty pleasures: Andy Capp Hot Fries.

I don't know what the fuck they are, they are, most likely, the desicated fingers of Bowery winos topped with artificial flavoring, but boy do they suck alcohol out of a stomach lining.

I know that most of us here are contemplating some decent food as compensation for putting up with our evil relatives. (I love that now whenever I start to complain about my family, and someone says "But all families are nuts" I can say "Um do YOU have a convicted pedophile who is about to do time in a federal prison in your family? Otherwise, you can shut the hell up.") But what is your favorite guilty pleasure comfort food? I'm not talkin' buffalo wings and twinkies (mmmmmm twinkies), I'm talking clamato here people. Go on 'fess up.

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