Because right about now I am having a high stress moment. I question where my life is going, or rather, lack thereof, and why it feels like that myth of that dude who keeps trying to roll the boulder up the hill and it rolls back down again and oh man, I wish,,,,I had, some chocolate.
Salty, pungent, sweet, doughy goodness of procrastination eating. Take away my stress, oh you gooey, carby, mess.
Ladies, you know what I am saying. What's your flavor of the month? For me, it would be sushi with dark chocolate, finished off with a lemon cake with chocolate frosting, and further finished off with some spicy pretzels. One of my friends only wants to eat barbeque potato chips.
Let me just say it. Donuts. With. Coffee. Not even in my non-dieting days do I permit myself this extremely sinful delight. But the other day, walking out of the subway near Herald Square, and you New Yorkers know the one I'm talking about, the one with the scary dark corner where Voldemort-after-too-much-acid often hangs out, growling at all passers-by while they pretend they don't notice him, and God knows what is on those stairs. Radioactive rat shit with plague virus dripping on the concrete.
But that night, along with all the usual reasons I am reminded to remove my shoes at the door when I come home, were the flourescent glowing colors of frosting. Someone had dropped an entire box of dunkin donuts, and they had cascaded down the subway stairs, creating a horrifying rainbow display, each step a different flavor and style.
It was food porn, New York style. Jelly filled, cream filled, chocolate frosted. Disgusting and fascinating and tempting, I hated myself for the urges I had to pick them up and bite into them, as I gazed at the lovely sugary circles, sadly sitting on the filth. The most difficult to pass by was the bright pink one near the top of the stairs, with rainbow sprinkles. It just looked so pretty, this sad rejected piece of toxic carb temporary bliss.
I guess whoever dropped them, correctly realized that the five second rule does not apply in the toxic sewers that are subway steps. And I had to admit they were probably right.
Salty, pungent, sweet, doughy goodness of procrastination eating. Take away my stress, oh you gooey, carby, mess.
Ladies, you know what I am saying. What's your flavor of the month? For me, it would be sushi with dark chocolate, finished off with a lemon cake with chocolate frosting, and further finished off with some spicy pretzels. One of my friends only wants to eat barbeque potato chips.
Let me just say it. Donuts. With. Coffee. Not even in my non-dieting days do I permit myself this extremely sinful delight. But the other day, walking out of the subway near Herald Square, and you New Yorkers know the one I'm talking about, the one with the scary dark corner where Voldemort-after-too-much-acid often hangs out, growling at all passers-by while they pretend they don't notice him, and God knows what is on those stairs. Radioactive rat shit with plague virus dripping on the concrete.
But that night, along with all the usual reasons I am reminded to remove my shoes at the door when I come home, were the flourescent glowing colors of frosting. Someone had dropped an entire box of dunkin donuts, and they had cascaded down the subway stairs, creating a horrifying rainbow display, each step a different flavor and style.
It was food porn, New York style. Jelly filled, cream filled, chocolate frosted. Disgusting and fascinating and tempting, I hated myself for the urges I had to pick them up and bite into them, as I gazed at the lovely sugary circles, sadly sitting on the filth. The most difficult to pass by was the bright pink one near the top of the stairs, with rainbow sprinkles. It just looked so pretty, this sad rejected piece of toxic carb temporary bliss.
I guess whoever dropped them, correctly realized that the five second rule does not apply in the toxic sewers that are subway steps. And I had to admit they were probably right.
No comments:
Post a Comment