Cookies

A co-worker brought me a cute little bowl of cookies today. She gave them to me in the parking lot. I got them special because by the time my grade level goes to lunch, the ones that she sets out in the lounge are gone, gone, gone. No cookies for me. For five years. So this year she gave me a little bowl of my own. She's also the one that walked me back to my room in Vegas when I was riding the escalavator, just so you know (I like to make connections so you feel as though you are here with me.). I call her Mother Hen.

She brings me the cookies. I tell myself, "Wait until lunch. Wait until lunch." But you see, I didn't have breakfast this morning and TWO of the cookies had fruit stuff. So I ate one. Nom. And then while reaching for the second half of the cookie, I bumped into a thumbprint cookie with homemade butter cream frosting. I touched it, so I needed to eat. Kind of like, you break it, you buy it. So I ate it. It was delicious. Nom again. In fact, I am pretty sure that I could survive on a diet of just those cookies. But then I wouldn't fit through doors, so probably best if I didn't.

Well, then I ate the second thumbprint because I have NO self-control. And then I saw that one of the other cookies had a little filling and I couldn't tell if it was frosting or fruit or what. So I ate it to find out. Nom again again. It was like an almond paste, by the way. Delciousness.

Sigh.

So all I had was one last cookie and at that point I was like, might as well. Yum.

That is my story about how I ate five (small) fancy cookies for breakfast.

Anyone else have a food story that is slightly embarrassing but totally worth it?

p.s. I am listening to novelty rap from the late eighties/early nineties. Does anyone else want to bust a move?