I bet you were all looking forward to some well planned, thoughtful prose here. Wait, why would you ever expect that? Do you think I’m here to inform, educate and entertain you like some Reithian figure? Of course not. I’m far too busy complaining about how many sweet and delicious things are in the office. Creating problems out of nice gestures, that’s me. Within a 5 metre radius I could easily get my hands on shortbread, iced sugar cookies, Whittaker’s Rum and Raisin chocolate (Canadians don’t seem to appreciate good chocolate), white chocolate peppermint bark, crushed peppermint chocolate chip cookies or tins of soft drink. If I went into the kitchen there are marble seashell chocolates and several type of Swiss chocolate biscuits that would stare back at me like sweet sirens. “I want to be inside you” they’d whisper in a sultry, perhaps husky voice and I’d be too busy battling my feelings of tummy lust to parse whether or not their come hither statement was actually appealing. I’m thinking ahead to family dinner tonight and the inevitable desserts I’ll fail to exercise moderation towards. If you’d tasted my cousin’s baking you’d understand. He could make a diabetic willingly jump head first into a chocolate coma.
So I’m compensating by drinking water. Too much. My urine has lost those delicate straw notes and now resembles something Nestlé would pump from a third world country while denying said country access to its own supply. Don’t think this means I’ve been abstaining from all the baked goods. On the contrary, I’ve had so much that they’ve lost their appeal. Do you know how large my sweet tooth is? If the metaphor extended physically I’d resemble a saber-toothed tiger. Or maybe Sabretooth. I do have the onesie. By the way, is he wearing a costume? I’ve never been able to work out if that’s just his skin/fur. Does he have a natural fur lining? Being able to essentially be naked all the time would be a pretty cool mutant power. Does anyone make a Sabretooth onesie? I’d be mega keen.
I’m ready for the impending Christmas holiday. Things have been apeshit at work (despite the other department currently playing ten pin down the hallway) but we’ve finally had a break in our workload that suffices for a Christmas gift. It’s meant I’m not spending late nights here and I’ll actually be able to flee on time tonight in order to expedite the doomed dessert refusal process. I’m trying to orchestrate a Christmas potluck dinner for friends without family in town. The rogue’s Christmas or friends as family mentality that’s basically just an excuse to eat heaps, get drunk and play parlour games around awesome people. More reason why I should pace myself now and not overindulge. I should be responsible and stop gorging on delicious treats constantly. Perhaps I should even hold up on gulping back excess litres of water before my pee turns invisible.
Buuut we all know that “should” is conditional and discipline isn’t my strong point. If it was, wouldn’t this have been well planned thoughtful prose? Maybe.
I likely never would’ve thought of a Sabretooth onesie though.