1) Don't finish the fucking sandwich.
2) Find someone who needs it and give it to them.
It all started when I talked to Big Josh last night. The man is a pusher for Jack in the Box. You folks out east don't have JitB. It is quite possibly the best tasting fast food chain ever conceived. When Jay and Seffinga first came out here, they ate nothing but JitB for every meal. Suffice to say, Jack in the Box sandwiches are very good. Now, being a fairly skinny guy with a definitely-not-cast-iron stomach, I can't eat burgers every day. But Big Josh has a way of finding your vice - whatever it may be - and making it seem TOTALLY worth it to abandon any rules you've set regarding it. The result: I wanted the biggest bacon ciabatta burger Jack in the Box sells.
I got my opportunity today when I met Q for lunch. We hit 'ye old JitB and I subsequently ordered and attempted to eat said burger. I don't know how many of you saw "Supersize Me," but I feel this is a good time to remind you that in the US, fast food portions are OUT OF FUCKING CONTROL. The food they serve you is cheep. The actual price of the ingredients and labor of your meal is a couple dollars tops, but the point of the Fast Food business model is to get you to spend $5 to $6 in a visit. They don't care what you buy, just so long as you spend that magic number, hence the numbered meal-deals. The result in regards to my life is that I spent that magic number, and got a burger too big for my frail quasi-healthy-guy stomach to handle.
I was faced with two choices. I don't like wasting stuff, so I wanted to finish it. It tasted good, after all. But I was already FULL with about half the sandwich left, and I hadn't even touched any fries. Finishing this sandwich was going to end in illness. The other option of course was to throw it out. Be a good, healthy, portion-conscious American and put that grease-ball in the trash to eventually become bug food. My stomach and taste-buds were arguing. My stomach was winning. The burger was headed for the trash.
Then I remembered the one thing everyone forgets when they're living in a rural environment and TRY to forget when they're in an urban setting: there are a lot of poor, homeless, starving people out there. I had even passed a guy on the corner of where I work on my way to lunch. Now, I occasionally give quarters to panhandlers. It depends on how full my glass is at the given moment. If it's half-full, I hope the person I give my quarter to is actually squirreling it away to re-establish his or her life again. I knew a homeless man by the name of Blaize who did that back in DC. If I'm in a half-empty mood though, the realization that my quarter isn't going to help for more then another day's chemical-induced fix usually sinks in, and thus the coinage stays in my pocket. When you give food, however, you know the result: someone who's hungry is going to eat.
I wrapped up the half-sandwich and untouched fries, and got a take-out bag. I even had the fore-thought to fill my soda cup back up and get a new lid and straw. Then I set out and started a brand new habit. The receiving gentlemen was quite thankful, I didn't get sick, nothing was wasted and the world is a slightly better place.
There you have it. Doctor Jer's better-then-fucking-Atkins help-out-your-fellow-humans diet. Now get to it you fat bastards.