Horrible Secret #1 - Averted

My lovely wife's birthday was this week, and to celebrate we went out for dinner at The Keg and then saw the new Harry Potter movie.  It was a delightful evening, and a good time was had by all.

Until, you know, later.

I don't believe that I'll be having a steak dinner again any time soon, or maybe I'll just cut way back on the portion.  Not like it was a huge steak to begin with, but even while eating it we had a conversation about how we could save $20 the next time we were there by one of us ordering the steak dinner and the other ordering just the sides, then cutting the steak in half. 

But the pain later that night was not so much from the wallet numbing bill (long gone are the days when I would pay for dinners like that and never give two thoughts about it).  No, that was a special pain that I hadn't felt since...the last time that I'd had a steak dinner?  Could these things be connected? 

And before you start thinking that maybe it wasn't the steak dinner, but rather the half a bag of popcorn that we ate, you have failed to take into consideration my intense love for movie popcorn.  When I lived half a block from the movie theatre back in my university days, we used to buy movie popcorn to eat while watching movies at home.  In some ways, I am like the driver that is determined to blame the car manufacturer for not making seat belts long enough instead of the family pack of KFC that they're snacking on.

Okay, this post didn't really seem to go anywhere, but at least it's saved so I wont have a Horrible Secret revealed.  And I'm writing this on Friday morning because our internet went out on Wednesday and I had a feeling of dying a little inside thinking that I might miss the deadline because of that.  You'll be happy to know I've formulated some back up plans, should that situation arise. 

*Attention readers of this blog, coming to your home and using your internet is my back up plan.

I was going to end this here, but a cat has come up and decided that my lap is the perfect spot to be cute.  And also, apparently, has decided that resting his head on my hands while typing is the icing on the cute cat cake.

Oh, he knew I was talking about him.  Now the biting.