Do you like sugar, or are you sweet enough?

Potato chips: You just can't eat one, right? Well, the cliche doesn't quite get to how fully I fantasized about about eating them yesterday as I made the three-hour drive home from Virginia. I knew there was a bag of Archer Farms baked chips with sea salt and black pepper sitting on the fridge. I could imagine the tang of salt and the subtle burn of the pepper. I knew I would walk in the door and make a beeline to the kitchen to sink my teeth into a chip. Or 50.

Well, the fantasy didn't quite play out the way I had hoped. Because I share a bed, and thus a dwelling and a grocery supply, the bag was nearly empty. I had to content myself with dredging the bottom of the bag -- still good, but not nearly as satisfying.

Lucky for me, we had taken advantage of the 2 for $5 deal and picked up a bag of spicy potato chips, same brand. These were quite good, though not baked. (My one complaint with Archer Farms is the labeling. What you think might be tortilla chips might be dill potato if you aren't careful.) So I got in my crunching quotient...

...and immediately got the most persistent case of heartburn known to humanity.

I'm a stubborn heartburn patient. I don't take Tums, or at least not right away. I eat ice cream. So in an effort to chase the burn, I ended up at the Dunkin' Donuts on Hillsborough Street -- a newer tenant of the strip famous for its high turnover (and frankly, boring street life).

Oh, I tried to be good. I looked at the mango and berry smoothies. Then I did what any good girl with PMS does. I ordered the Oreo Jamoca shake.

This wasn't just a shake. I think it was aiming for religious experience. It missed the mark and simply made me feel guilty. Perhaps it's a Catholic shake? Anyways, picture this: A coffee-chocolate ice cream blend with Oreo bits*, slightly thicker than drinkable, topped with whipped cream and the coup de grace: a half-inch layer of caramel on the bottom of the cup. So every sip threatens a diabetic coma.

It tasted fantastic. It also made me, very much a nonCatholic, consider a trip to confession, and it helped fuel a terrific case of gut rot to accompany my hearburn. Which did not go away, by the way.

At 2:30 a.m., I finally caved and munched on some Tums. They tasted like crap. I immediately felt better.

Lesson of the day: I should think about eating some veggies.