Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Some genius at work decided it would be fun to purchase an economy size bucket of Twizzlers. What possessed her to buy an over sized container of chewing rubber I’ll never know, but damn they’re tasty. I was practically forced to have one (I don’t eat junk food, so my co-workers find it amusing to tempt me as often as possible,) and as you probably know, you can’t have just one. So, inevitably, one leads to two, then two to three, and then BAM! You’re fat. Twizzlers are the marijuana of the candy world people, the “gateway” candy if you will. You eat them until they’ve pacified your sweet tooth for a while, but as time passes they no longer satisfy the “itch” that needs scratched. Eventually, you’ll move on to cookies, candy bars, donuts, and cake. Like a candy crack head, you’ll gorge your face until your life is ruined. You’ll lose the feeling in your lower lip and your first child will be born with a third testicle. Damn you Twizzlers. Damn you.