Sugar Prison

I know I'm not the first person to call this out, but what is with the fucking office treats?! Nobody is the sort of person that wants to be constantly eating this shit. Nobody. And even if they do want to be eating it, they shouldn't be eating it! Because I'm the fat police and I say so!

We've all exchanged a sing-songy "Uh-oh...whoooo did thiiiis?!" or an "Oh my gosh, I so cannot have that...maybe just a little bite," or an ">eye roll< Not again!" with a coworker when we happen upon each other in a sweettreat-laden kitchen. But it's the very presence of this sort of concern, disgust, and guilty-desire voiced by any and all colleagues over the excessive sweets that baffles me when I see a table of sugartown; if we all hate it, why do we keep providing one another with baked goods?!

Knowwhaddimean?

Blah blah, right? So. The baked goods today were remarkably large and in charge...cupcakes as big as two of my fists, no joke. Hubba hubba. The blurry photo does not do them justice. And there was a laaaarge plate of a variety of meltymoist cookies. I ate very very little of this spread, considering what I'm capable of when spreads are involved.

I'm in a tizzy at work today, very busy and trying to tie up loose ends. I have to call in sick tomorrow in order to go to Saratoga with the HST. (No telling, jerks!)I wish I didn't have to call in sick but I don't have a choice this time. So we're off to upstate NY for the weekend, big sketch fest, fully-packed weekend, staying in a hotel, etc. Yikes.

I had a nice Valentine's Day. I'm not a fan of the holiday on any level; I'd rather poke my own eyes out. But it was with these very low expectations that I had a pleasant night. Ding.

See you on the flipside.

*Later: Sooo, I see that just two posts below I'm bitching about how there aren't enough sweets in my office. Listen. I'm a versatile, malleable, ever-changing human form. Judge not lest ye want candies.