Sadness is the way my morning routine has spun completely out of control and become entirely overpopulated with futile assignments, done at the behest of Sophie. Sadness is also the way that these fool�s errands spread like a virus into my afternoon, eventually rendering me unable to do any other work. Sadness is also the fact that I might be possessed.
See, I�m writing this entry right now, but I�m not really thinking about it. My mind is elsewhere, and no amount of effort I put into focusing on the collection of projects currently cluttering my office like a post-apocalyptic paper wasteland, my concentration keeps straying to the choir of sweet voices ringing out from the conference room next door. Ensconced in a crystal clear bowl in that conference room, you see, are a handful of top shelf chocolates that Sophie placed there just earlier this morning, and now they call to me.
Is it pitiful that candy makes my heart go pitter-pat? Well, maybe not. However, it may be pitiful that chocolate causes me to lose all focus, and reduces me to a quivering blob of base desires. It�s like moral nerve gas, or something. Either way, I can�t do my job, as in the back of my mind on a continuous loop, my thoughts replay the sentiment, "If I have a truffle now, I can still have one of those Ferrero Rocher things after lunch�but what of the Ghirardelli bars? I need to have one of those. No! I�m supposed to be eating healthy!"
So, you see, I am a man possessed. I suppose I could blame this all on the media. After all, the Food Network has chosen this, the week leading up to Single Awareness Day, as its opportunity to glorify chocolate, ostensibly the most wondrous collaboration between God and man since the invention of indoor plumbing. I have been watching the festivities every single night and drooling myself to sleep. Which might explain, in part, why I�m single (once again) for Valentine�s Day.
I would know, however, in my heart of (chocolate) hearts, that to blame anyone but myself for my state of sweet, cocoa dependence would be a cop-out. My obsession with chocolate runs deep and long, like the mighty Mississippi, and, like that great river, it can neither be contained nor controlled. Lately I�ve found my defenses against it are way down, too, which is not such a good thing. The goings-on at the office have me all but completely feral, and it would only take one good nudge to send me careening into insanity, where I believe I would take up residence with quite a bit of pleasure.
First I would strip to the buff and fashion myself a loincloth of paper (which might not be too intelligent, but the mental amelioration derived from converting this taxing clutter into underwear might well be worth any discomfort), and then I would tear into the chocolate until it�s foil skin lay strewn about the conference room, my face and body were covered in sticky, chocolate truffle gore, and my eyes were glazed over with sugar intoxication. Then, of course, it would be on to all that Lord of the Flies shit.
I can hardly wait to get started. Nudge me, Sophie. I dare you.
Someone Got Here By Searching For: cold creek manor shit fucking And: "body candy" I�m Watching: 24, and feeling fairly disappointed in the characters. None of them have quite the �oomph� of earlier seasons. And: America�s Next Top Model. Am I high, or did Xiomara actually seem upset that someone described her as �adventurous�?