PuddleMonkey

I hate this time of the year, but not for the usual reasons you might think. Okay, I don’t particularly care for the commercialization of Christmas. I usually lose sleep trying to figure out what presents to buy for the lucky sots on my list, and I sure don’t want to spend any time in a shopping mall dodging all the consumer whores, but what I truly, truly loathe most about this time of the year is the food: it’s all so good, and everyone makes too much of it.

Just down the hallway from my desk, a plate of chocolate fudge and a lemon cake sit in the kitchen. I love lemon cake. I love most all candies and baked goods that contain lemon. Lemon cookie? Of course I’ll eat that. Lemon pound cake? Step away from the table and let me through before I gouge holes into the back of your head. Lemon drops? Name your price, but name it quick before we both lose our powers of speech.

And then there’s fudge. Sweet, smooth, creamy fudge… without nuts! Whoever brought it to the office should be smothered in honey, bound and gagged and thrown in the middle of a field where the ants and mice and spiders and other creatures can lick the carcass clean… because that’s how much it pains me to resist the fudge.

In the main office kitchen there is caramel popcorn, Christmas cookies that are covered with icing and sprinkles, rum balls (made only with rum extract, wtf?), a plate of brownies with some sort of fluffy marshmellow topping (oh, come to me, my little marshmellow of love), chocolate cake, and a grand assortment of nuts (in addition to my coworkers, that is). Someone please stop this madness.

And tomorrow we’re having our holiday potluck lunch. I’m bringing cheesecake. What?