Everyone knows who Jimmy Buffet was, right? Well, he has little to do with anything other than the fact that he makes me hungry. Of course, this surname obviously has a silent “t”, but when I see the word buffet, my mind does not autocorrect. And that is because there are few things more seductive than a full-frontal food orgy when your hollow belly is rumbling with the vacant echo of distant thunder.

Anyway, in case you didn’t already know, the late Jimmy Buffet had the smash hit Margaritaville. And margaritas are a lovely way to satiate your insides when gorged with starch and fat. The sugar from the Cointreau, accentuated with the crisp tartness of lime infused with a significant punch of electric shock tequila just sets the buds on fire. And not just the taste buds, but also the buds of fire flower that fueled this fare frenzy.

Hold on.

Ok, sorry, I just had to wipe the saliva from the corners of my leaking mouth.

So, we all love a fabulous buffet! But some level of caution should be practiced due to the potential overindulgence that converts that thunder into a direct clap of lightning that strikes your internal system, resulting in the projectile discharge of stomach mush, effectively bankrupting that stretched abdomen into an empty vat of contracting cramps. With one ill-advised glance into the mirror, the watering eyes and blood flushed complexion will tell the story of a slightly dizzied, miserably moaning face full of regret triggered by unwise choices of the pallet.

But there’s a lesson to be learned from gluttony, and it is that even though you wasted a plate of uneaten scraps, the food would have never made it to hungry children in Africa without first becoming spoiled. So, you’re all good!

And pray that the Jimmy Buffet estate doesn’t change the enunciation of his last name. Because lord knows, you don’t need any more triggers.