This is where my Mini-Eggs would be sitting had I not devoured all 2280 calories of them in a single fell swoop.
It occurs to me that in my last post I may have been a little critical, maybe even borderline insulting. I got carried away, as sometimes happens when I rant so much I black out. So I’d like to take this time to formally apologize: I’m sorry, chocolate. I’m sorry I ever said giving you up wasn’t a sacrifice. I’m not sure what could account for my outburst, but I learned the err of my ways after I ate a 10-ounce bag of Cadbury Mini-Eggs while downloading the latest episode of the Office. They weren’t lying when they said chocolate has similar effects to heroin because, much like the common street junkie, I too experienced an indescribable high followed by sweating, itchy blood, crushing depression, nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, diarrhea, Yay! Pepto Bismol!
Chocolate, I’m sorry.
While writing this apology, I was struck by notion that I most likely owe an apology to most of the people I come into contact during my daily routine. I am reminded of the whole midget-punching incident I was involved in during one of my other benders. The poor little feller did nothing to provoke my mighty wrath or my concern that he had escaped the circus, but I was high on sleep deprivation and Red Bull, and he happened to fall in the path of my flailing limbs. So this is to you, little man, if you’re reading this in your tree, sitting on your chest of gold coins, I am truly sorry. Now if you could call off your cronies at the carnival, I would love nothing more than to put this whole matter behind us so I can ride the bumper cars again.
