Life is like a box of chocolates...

I have a picture of my outfit for today but I'm going to post it later because this is more pressing.

Awhile back, the professor I work for gave me a present as a thank you for the work I've done for her. When I got home, I unwrapped the gift to find that she had given me a box of chocolates, which I clearly need as much as I need a punch in the face. Though I probably could have (and wanted to) eat all the chocolates right then and there, I approached the box as any normal adult who would like to not get diabetes would. That is to say, slowly.

Just now, a few short minutes ago, the time arrived for me to eat the final chocolate in the box, a good decision considering I already ate about 800 pounds of food today at Friend Thanksgiving and am now getting ready to leave for volleyball and doesn't everyone know that chocolates are a good pre-exercise snack? Right.

One of the worst things OF ALL TIME is when your last bite of food is ruined. Am I right? I am. You all know what I'm talking about. Like when you have one cookie/cracker/whatever left and you're all set to eat it and then someone walks over and snatches it. Or when you're waiting for the bus eating a granola bar because you just worked for many hours and the caterer decided not to feed you even though THEY ARE ALWAYS SUPPOSED TO FEED YOU and you drop the last fucking morsel of granola bar on the ground and the 5 second rule does not apply to sidewalks.

When the last chocolate in the box is one of the gross ones, it sucks. And unfortunately not all delicious chocolate makers like to print a little grid that tells you what all the chocolates are (WHY NOT?) so it's one big game of guessing and surprises. To avoid this problem, I hand-selected a chocolate to be the last one that I was SURE was going to be delicious and not some gelatinous fruity nasty excuse for sweets. It was one of those ones that's shaped like a mini Reese's peanut butter cup and usually contains some kind of rice crispie-esque stuff. So I was pretty pumped to eat it.

I don't even need to say what happened because I bet you all know.

I bit into the chocolate and, instead of crunchy goodness, I got some kind of sub-par nut-based nonsense. It wasn't the worst thing ever, and it wasn't even so bad that I threw away the rest of the chocolate as you know I did with a bunch of the other ones, but it was still a disappointment. Not the way I wanted to end a box of chocolates.

And this is not the way I wanted to end this blog post, but I need to leave for volleyball exactly 1 minute ago so a witty conclusion is not the cards today. Peace out, cub scout!