The Flesh is Weak
I walked down for dinner (of sorts) tonight to discover my housemates and a friends watching Pirates of the Carribean. Fine movie, I thought, so I sat down to watch with them. During the arbitrarily decided intermission, one of them casually drops that his box of Snickers bars has, ah, dropped in quantity by rather a lot.
Hey, look at the time!
I said I'd had a few. But maybe a few isn't quite as few as I'd hope it was, given the general consensus from the rest of the room that Snickers bars weren't all that.
So I guess I gotta come clean.
I read an article a few weeks ago about a study demonstrating how potential alcoholics could often be spotted by their sweet tooths. My sweet tooth is a bit of a problem, but I'm somewhat lacking in the alcoholism department. Also, most of the people I know who have alcholism histories tend to shy away from sweet things pretty strongly.
I once read a quote that said that an addict was someone who would steal your wallet to buy their fix, then help you look for it when you said it was missing. I'm not gonna help find the candy bars. I'm not that pathetic. But I suppose I may as well come clean...in a few days when I can pay for replacements.
On the other hand, I got to see the zombie pirate monkey again tonight. Savvy?