The brownies are next. Pray to whatever God you pray to that these don’t kill us
In Seattle a 32 year-old, well-dressed man was hit by a bus on his way to the Starbucks. He got up from the street and walked a block further to get his coffee, even while bleeding from his head. When the fire department arrived apparently he wasn’t making a lot of sense. That seems reasonable. I certainly hope they gave him a free cup of coffee for that kind of loyalty. I mean that man really wanted a Mochaccino or whatever his poison is. They should make him their national spokesman. The Jared of Starbucks.
Ava and I can really understand that kind of single-minded determination.
The diet is moving along at a snails pace – agonizingly slow. We’re damn near desperate for a treat. At the back of our diet bible there are recipes. There are always recipes at the back of diet books. They usually suck, but you’re desperate. You see the word “cookie” or “brownie” and you lose perspective.
You think this is the one. This cookie/brownie/pudding will be wonderful. I’ll be saved. Losing weight will be a piece of cake after this wonderful free cake recipe.
It’s the fat that makes you delusional.
Ava found a diet recipe for Almond Cookies. “Oh yea!” we shouted. “We love almond cookies.”
Sadly, we don’t love these almond cookies. They were bad. Really bad. I’m not saying bad with any implied irony here. BAD. AWFUL. Then you eat another one a couple hours later because surely it wasn’t as bad as you remember. It is a cookie, after all. Oh, but you were wrong. Dreadfully wrong. So, so wrong. This isn’t a cookie, it’s a cruel Nazi experiment. The real tragedy is that the next day you’re so desperate for some relief you’re willing to try that dastardly cookie again.
Don’t let the cookie win!
Ava summed it up best. “That cookie was so bad, I only ate five.”