Last Week, Nobody Ate

Last week, no one ate. Or at least no one took pictures of anything they weren't ashamed of saying they ate.

Of course, you don't care because you, dear reader, are a figment of my imagination. No one has looked at any of the latest posts. So I'm basically talking to myself. Which is awesome. But also slightly crazy.

Anyways.

Last week was the week where I ate so much take-out crap that I started thinking that I was getting high cholesterol and diabetes. I took pictures of some of it, but I didn't want to publish the pictures because I don't want this blog to turn into "This is Why I'm Fat". So I called Irene hoping she had taken some pictures. Unfortunately, she hadn't.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I've been swamped this week! I've been eating little things here and there. And then when I finally sat down for lunch on Friday, my iPhone memory was full and I couldn't even take pictures of it. Didn't you take any pictures at all?"


"I took some pictures, but they were all of fast food. It's all the fault of those stupid Hostess cupcakes. They're a gateway drug!"

"Hostess cupcakes?"

Bless Irene's innocent stomach! She's been in Canada over 20 years yet she's somehow managed to avoid all disgusting snacky cakes to the point of being totally unaware of their branding. I don't know how she does it. Then again, she also drinks a fantastic amount of guarana soda that she gets from this shady convenience store in some random part of town.

I'll leave you with the picture of an empty Cinnabon box. I brought Cinnabon cinnamon buns to work and within two seconds of placing them in the break room a swarm of engineers descended upon them like a pack of piranhas. They were all gone in 5 minutes.

Revenge of The Office Snack Closet

Oh dear.

The office snack closet had been bare for so many days that I had forgotten about its usual bounty. This morning I opened it expecting some stale social tea cookies and maybe a Ritz cracker or two. I was not at all prepared for what I found: Hostess Vanilla Cupcakes! I had never had a Hostess Cupcake, vanilla or otherwise, before. I had heard of them, but never bought one because, you know, snacky cakes are bad for you. Today, though, those vanilla cupcakes were in the snack closet, so they were provided by the God of the Snack Closet (i.e. our office manager, Linda) for me to consume. It was a sign.

Today, as an exception, there is a picture of food. It is the picture of the uneaten Hostess cupcakes. I took one bite and spit it out. That was a vile, vile piece of edible food-like substance!

I didn't know what I had done to offend the God of the Snack Closet, but I promised to atone! I promised to clean the sink and put dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Anything for the God of the Snack Closet to never tempt me with anymore facsimiles of food ever again!

Then one of my coworkers popped by my desk and scarfed down my untouched cupcake and asked me if there were any more in the snack closet.