So today I made myself sick. Work was slow. Real slow. So slow that the only thing I could do to entertain myself was to walk swiftly back and forth from my desk to the kitchen. And, being the resident food shopper, I like to test my will power. I buy tons of not-so-good-for-you treats that I think I’ll be able to resist. I fail 100% of the time. I used to have a thing for Jelly Belly jelly beans in college. Luckily, I had an anorexic friend who would so kindly bring over her Costco-sized container whenever she came to to my apartment, and get off on watching the love/hate relationship I have with the things play out. Did I want to eat those empty, sugary calories? No. But did I love the element of surprise as I threw back each bean, my taste buds always introduced to a new and exciting flavor? Yes, I did. So when I saw the economy sized bag of Jelly Bellys on the shelf during my weekly shopping spree, I knew I shouldn’t. But against my better judgment, I bought it for “the office.” I held out for three days yet today was the day I caved. I grabbed the bag, poured myself a generous helping, and let the fun begin. The juicy pear really is so juicy! And how do they make a taste of the strawberry daiquiri feel like a trip to the Caribbean? Amazing. I finished the first helping and went in for round two. I was having a blast when out of no where I felt a wave of nausea overtake me. The devil bean – black licorice! If you’ve ever mistaken vodka for water, it’s a similar experience. Why! Why would they put that hidden lump of coal into the bag? After that, I felt the sugar kick in and knew my trips to the kitchen were done for the day. The cupcake I had soon after probably didn’t help the situation, however, it was offered to me in my seat, so technically not my fault, it’s not like I got up and got it. Sick to my stomach, I moved on to my second favorite activity, puppy hunting. I know I by no means could support a dog, I can barely afford to cloth myself. I guess I wouldn’t need to cloth a dog, but how could you not with options like these:

Living in LA makes it hard not to want one. Going to Runyon Canyon without a dog is like showing up to the prom without a date – no one’s stopping you from going, but you feel like a loser. I open up and type in my preferences – cockapoo, shitzapoo, ladbradoodle…I want a puppy with some poodle in it, and there seems to be more than enough to go around. It’s like every type of dog gets with poodle – which made me wonder if poodles are hornier then other types of dog? Or are they just the sluts of the group? I have the equivalent of baby fever except I hate babies, and want a dog. It’s creepy how many cell phone pics I have of stranger’s dogs. Thankfully it’s not babies. Somehow I don’t think people would appreciate me snapping photos of their kids when their backs are turned. Don’t worry, your kids are safe. Speaking of kids, I was with two people this past weekend, both in social situations involving heavy amounts of alcohol, and was surprised to learn that both of them had a child. Too bad a night of mistaken sex couldn’t result in a puppy. That’s a mistake I’d like to make. Instead the only thing making my stomach grow are the pound of jelly beans I’m ingesting.

I’ll take the brown one please.

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