Once you pop.

14 Dec

Dove Milk Chocolate Promises are my crack cocaine. Once I start unwrapping one of those little chocolatey, blissful gems, there’s no looking back. I can slam an entire package of Promises in less than an hour. I need to attend a Dove Chocolate Eaters Anonymous group. I need support to get over my compulsive consumption. How does Dove do it? They’re worse than Pringles. Maybe Pringles should hand over their slogan. They’d just have to change a verb, that’s all.

Yesterday was to be my day of rest from my snowboarding extravaganza. After four consecutive days of hard riding, my body was pissed. Today, then, was going to be my big debut back on the mountain. This morning when I started to walk downstairs to let Raleigh out, however, I changed my mind. My thighs? MY, word. I can barely apply any pressure to them at all. Going down the stairs is as hard as moving a car with my bare hands. I feel like I got slammed by a station wagon, straight in the legs. It hurts to even TOUCH my thigh muscles. Nothing that a few eggs, several hundred fluid ounces of fruit punch flavored electrolytes, and another 24 hours of relaxing can’t fix though I hope.

I need a hot tub. And an Asian masseuse. And some extra strength Aleve.

Maybe some Percocet.

There’s something about getting stuck and struggling in powder while skiing or snowboarding that brings out the most vile, violent, animalistic angry rage in a person. One minute you’re cruising along, listening to Atmosphere and feeling like Hannah Teter, then the next, you’re waist deep in powder headed uphill, stuck and screwed, screaming curse words at the top of your lungs, sweating, and gnashing your teeth at passersby who avoided your unfortunate fate. Absolutely pissed off. Angry enough to beat a baby, or shatter a third grader’s clay art project right in front of them and then call them a pussy.

It gets weird.

Facebook has got a lot of nerve. The other day I logged on and clicked my way to a friend’s profile. There, Facebook informed me that, “Rob has upgraded to the new Facebook profile! Would you like to upgrade?” I clicked no. Then the very next day I logged on, it went ahead and upgraded me anyway. Was this their way of creating a buffer between the surprise changes and the backfire of angry users? Asking and then doing anyway does not make it okay. Come on, Zuckerberg. Let’s get on the same menstrual cycle for once.

Well, that’s all for now folks. Let’s not make this goodbye any more awkward than it already is.


“It’s in case you’re sitting there thinking, ‘I don’t know what the f*ck is going on.'”

– Dr. Belknap


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