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I have fat cats. And slightly overweight dogs. And am a chunky monkey myself. Why? I compensate with food. Sad? Cheer myself up with sweets. Happy? Reward myself with sweets. Any inclination of PMS? Indulge in whatever I may be craving. I feel guilty for leaving the dogs? Give them treats. Worried that I ruined the cats’ lives by getting dogs? Extra food. So because today Mr. Zoo turns mumble-mumble-rty and since yesterday was the last day of the previous decade which will not be named, I marked the occasion in the way I do best on any occasion.
Those are chocolate cupcakes with frosting between the cupcake and the cupcake top, which has a little heart cut-out, and then sprinkled with powdered sugar. Mr. Zoo ate two of them before I pointed out the heart cut-out.
A recent conversation between my friend M and me:
Zoo: I’ve really been trying to eat better. More salads, no snacks in the house. The only thing I’ve allowed myself is melting a few milk chocolate chips in the microwave and eating with almonds.
M: That’s a good idea!
Zoo: Yeah, it’s going well this week. Wait a couple of weeks when I start PMSing and then need salt. Then sweet. Then hamburgers. Then candy. Then sugar. Then chips. And so on. My cravings get out of control.
M: Oh I know! I allow myself a box of Junior Mints when I go to the movies and I DO NOT SHARE IT.
Zoo: HA! Whenever I go to the movies it’s like a frickin smorgasboard I can barely make a decision. Of course I get like four things and then inhale all the food before the movie even starts.
M: OH ME TOO! Can’t take the leftovers home, can’t have that shit in the house, after all.
Zoo: Totally. Whenever I get really out-of-control cravings, and you know they’re intense when I get off my lazy ass to actually go to the store, and then get to the store and buy eight different kinds of junk food, I always prepare myself in case the cashier comments on the amount of crap I’m buying:
“Oh, I’m having my nieces over for a sleepover so I’m treating them to junk food!”
“Oh, I’m just getting ready for Halloween. You know, months ahead of time. And, um, while these aren’t on sale or anything…”
“Oh! Yeah. I’m just a fatty.”
M, laughing: That’s hilarious. So you’re inventing family members to cover your eating habits. Next thing you’ll find some kid to go with you.
Zoo: Totally, find some kid on the street. “Hey, little girl, wanna do me a favor? I’ll give you some candy if you do!”
pause
Zoo: Uh, that was bad. I took it too far.
Things making me violent today:
- A friend request from an old co-worker on Facebook. The old co-worker who totally threw me under the bus after I left the company. And by that I mean, submitting a notarized affidavit to support my old boss’s manufactured claims of my “criminal behavior.” That she had the balls to send me a friend request in which she asked me for a pet-sitter referral because hers had canceled completely flabbergasts me. I don’t know what kind of response she expected, but she obviously underestimated the seriousness of everything they put me through (reporting me to the police? HELLO? motherfuckers). I could stab her in the eye.
- I made one of our favorite dishes for dinner – pasta with grilled chicken, broccoli, garlic, cheese – and over-cooked the pasta. Which made me stabby. I ate a bunch anyway, and then I ate too much, so much that I felt sick, and then I got even more stabby.
- Cramps. And feeling like there are shards of concrete residing in the girls. Pain makes me stabby.
- My dog chewing on a racquetball. Non. Stop. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. And then just when it gets quiet and I think he’s gotten bored: SQUEAK. SQUEAK. SQUEEEEEEEEEEAK. Stabby.
- Spider Solitaire. Why must a winning hand elude me? I will cut you.
- The weather. Be sunny. Be overcast. Be rainy. WHATEVER. Just don’t be muggy. STAB. BY.
