Well, it’s happened again. I gave into my temptation. It is my own fault. I baked the cake, and I insisted on using two different colored frostings – yes, they were Betty Crocker canned frostings, but they are my favorite. There was a lot of chocolate left over, and it didn’t seem right to let it go to waste– right? I thought about the starving children in the third world who would love to eat my chocolate frosting. I also wondered if the starving children in the first and second world would like my frosting too. Where exactly are the first and second worlds? Anyway, to be honest, it’s not that I would give any of them my frosting. I am pretty protective over my frosting. I would give them real food, and I am assuming my donations to the Red Cross go for exactly that. I would be a little disappointed if they took my pledge and turned it into chocolate frosting.
Anyway, I had a bad day. I was trying to write an article, and my “star” of the article would not cooperate. Not only was she ticked off that she had to be interviewed, but she made it clear that she was confident that she was a better writer than me. After all, she took a creative writing class at the community college annex, and the teacher told her she was dripping with talent. Yes, “dripping” was the word she used.
I let her words go in one ear and out the other, but then she said the strangest thing. She said she was so sure of her writing ability that she wanted to edit the article that I was writing about her. I almost spit out my coffee. But I told her politely,
“You will have to take that up with my editor.”
To which she said,
“What would your editor know?”
To which I said,
“I think plenty. That is why she is an editor.”
Then, in a very sweet voice, I said a mean thing: I asked the writing phenom where she was published. When she answered, “I write for my church bulletin”, I told her that a church bulletin is not considered being published, and she should keep her day job.
I probably shouldn’t have said that aloud, but she had it coming. It did shut her up, and I did finish the interview, but then I had to relay what I said to my editor who laughed uncontrollably and then said we might have to pay for that remark. I said, “I know, but really–the church bulletin?” She laughed again and we made plans to meet for drinks in two weeks.
Oh, yes, the chocolate frosting –I’m getting there. All the aggravation from the wannabe writer chick triggered my need to eat the leftover chocolate frosting. As I was spooning it out of the can, a sense of calm and euphoria came over me. The day took on an entirely new spin. I felt empowered, satisfied and – to be honest- a bit buzzed. I guess all the sugar finally hit me about halfway through the can.
I took advantage of the sugar high and completed research for two more articles and then mowed my lawn – yes, all from a can of chocolate frosting. My only worry about my chocolate frosting habit is that the government will find out about the buzz factor and want to label it as some kind of mood-enhancing drug and force me to go to rehab with Lindsay Lohan. Just in case this happens, I have been hoarding my frosting. I have multiple flavors hidden in my pantry. Yes, it’s true, while some people keep emergency survival kits filled with bandages, water and beans, I keep frosting. When you think about it, I would be a lot more pleasant to spend survival with than the person who only ingests beans.
Anyway, I have to go do an interview for another article. But I am prepared. I have my coffee and a can of frosting on my desk. That should get me through the day until I go to gym and oh yeah, my root canal. Oh, in the words of my dentist, “Frosting? You eat frosting? This root canal you do deserve.”