Cookies or Bust

I am a woman obsessed. I've been stalking small children on the street, girl children to be specific. I need Girl Scout cookies! I no longer work for a company where parents peddle cookies for their children. I'm thinking about quiting my current job and searching for one with sugar benefits.

The Yuppie works for a company with sugar benefits. He scored me two boxes of my very favorite cookies: Samoas. (I think I ate my weight in Thin Mints a few years ago so I had to find a new favorite.) This was very sweet of him... mmm... sweet like cookies, but I probably won't see him until Friday. My sweet tooth will not wait patiently until Friday. So, I decided to stalk every grocery store in a 10 mile radius of my house. Finally, today, I found a grocery store with small girl children and cookie boxes. Yay! While I stood in line waiting for my turn, I calculated how many boxes I could justify without having to make an extra trip to the gym.

Then something tragic happened... they were out of Samoas! I panicked and asked for anything chocolate. Nadda. All they had left was some sort of shortbread bullshit. Trying to avoid a string of expletives in front of the children I bit my lip. It bled. And let me tell you, blood tastes nothing like the perfection of vanilla cookies coated in caramel, sprinkled with toasted coconut and laced with chocolate strips. Nothing!

Arlo's Plump Perogies

Valentine's Day dinner looked beautiful on the plate, however, later that night it didn't look so pretty coming back up. It's interesting that no one else got sick from the meal. And by "interesting" I mean ARLO IS TRYING TO KILL ME!

He's got plenty of justifiable reasons to want me dead. In fact, the whole thing is rather ironic. Just yesterday, some friends and I were talking about how much grief I give Arlo. We agreed that if he did indeed kill me, no jury in the world would convict him. I'd like to think the reason he attempted to poison me wasn't necessarily due to the fact I force him to watch bad reality TV with me, or the fact I tease him mercilessly, but because I burned the one portion of the dinner I was in charge of:

Bangers for Dinner

When Arlo tried to kill himself to avoid making a traditional Canadian meal, Mrs. AK took matters into her own hands. Her British hands.

Last night she prepared bangers and mash for us. I was more than surprised when I actually liked it. Arlo, on the other hand, scoff at his serving. I have no idea why…

For Energy and Laughs

The Kid called me fat today, or not fat. I'm so confused.

We've been passing back and forth a stale granola bar for a week. I had every intention of eating it when I picked it up a couple of weeks ago, and then didn't. I put it on his desk BECAUSE I AM A NICE PERSON! He didn't eat it and put it back on my desk. We soon started adding notes listing reasons why the other should eat it. He suggested I lay off the caffeine and eat it for natural energy. Ha! I then suggested he is young and likely sowing his wild oats and should therefore eat an oat bar.

His latest note is going to be hard to top:

Liar, Liar... Stitches on Fire

I've been known to be a tad demanding. My friends and family will be the first to tell you this. I expect a lot from people, it's just the way I was made. I've learned over the years people can often disappoint me. Case in point: Arlo.

I asked Arlo to teach me to make perogies Wednesday night. He happily agreed to my face, but then behind my back he tried to cut own hand off with a dull kitchen knife in order to get out of teaching me. Perhaps he's lazy; perhaps he's trying to avoid seeing me hurt, like last time. Whatever the case, the lad is just so thoughtless and cruel. I don't think five stitches is a good excuse for breaking promises. Ever.

I'm going to peek under his bandages to be sure he's telling the truth. Like I tell my three-year-old niece, Hannah, boys lie AND carry cooties, therefore cannot be trusted.

Chocolate: The Naughty Treat

I think the universe is telling me to go on a diet. Which sucks because Arlo has promised me I can drown my sorrows in his chocolate, I suppose that’s as naughty as he can be without pissing his bishop off. He’s already skating on thin ice with his God for being friends with me at all.

After an especially crummy day a friend came over to have some dinner and watch the debates. We called to order a pizza and were told they were closed for an hour and to call back. No biggie, it was worth the wait since they have wheat crust. An hour later I called back and was told they were filming a movie and would be closed all night.

Bummer.

We then ordered Chinese food online from Sam Pan, because it’s easier than speaking to actual human beings. An hour and a half later I called to see why our food hadn’t arrived. They didn’t have our order. Stupid technology. Growing moodier by the second I re-ordered and was promised it would arrive in one hour. Thirty minutes later they called and had trouble processing the credit card because it was one number short. We went through the order again.

One hour and fifteen minutes later I had food. It’s never taken three hours to get food to my apartment. Clearly the universe thinks I’m fat and is throwing hints my way. The universe is an ass, but I get the hint and will hit the gym this weekend. When I’m done eating Arlo’s chocolate, of course.

Livin' on the Edge

I don't have the best eating habits. This we reinforced over the weekend by Alaska Pat, my soon-to-be personal trainer. It's not that I don't eat healthy, because typically I do, it's that I don't eat regular meals. I blame my schedule, but truthfully it just seems like a hassle more often than not. Which is why Wheat Chex and vanilla soy milk were invented... to sustain me.

This morning in an attempt to eat at least three meals a day, I had a cup of coffee with soy milk. Soy milk counts as a real meal, right? Then, as I ran out the door, I grabbed one of my Dannon Light & Fit-Carb & Sugar Control Smoothies to drink for lunch. Since I'm not in the office very many hours as is, I rarely take a lunch.

Just now, as I was about to drink said smoothie, I noticed the expiration date was Nov 14. In my quest for good health, I choose to ignore the fact and drink it anyway. Now, I'm just sitting around waiting to die wondering how important forcing yourself to eat really is.

Aimee Bakes a Win

I have the Sox game playing in the background while I'm writing a paper, but I don't need to pay attention because Aimee made cookies. I did my part and ate six yesterday, so it's a guaranteed win!

To Each Their Own Smack

Do you have a justification dance? I do. It's cute and geeky all at the same time. And today I had the opportunity to share it with everyone in the parking lot of Blockbuster.

I went with Marky to pick up some crack cocaine, or Deadwood, whatever. Do not deny this boy his smack. He gets moody! As we were checking out Marky was lingering near the treats. I kindly reminded him we were stopping at Maverick for drinks and Sunchips. The cashier got excited, which is not normal. (The Hollywood Video near my house employs zombie kids. I'm sure they are just hungover and puffy from the previous night, but I'm sticking with the zombie story.) The cashier and I, we bonded over cinamon flavored Sunchips. I discovered them at a truck stop in Evanston and have been in love ever since. Seriously, churros in a bag. It's a beautiful thing.

As usual Marky has been forced to accept my obsessions. Meaning he's driven me to countless gas stations on the hunt for them. Sadly, they're not so easy to find. I was so excited that someone else was just as addicted. Suddenly I felt normal. Of course only for a brief second, because that's when the parking lot of people saw me dancing around with my fist in the air--ala Rocky Balboa.