Cake

Sometimes I feel like I have Alzheimer’s, like early onset Alzheimer’s. I’ll make a mental note about something and two seconds later I don’t even remember what the mental note was about or where I put said mental note. It also becomes a problem with those store bought cakes. You know the kind, the one with the frosting that is basically 10 cups of sugar and just looking at it gives you diabetes. And every time someone brings one in you silently call dibs on the corner piece with the big rose. I know you do. It’s ok, I do it too.

My selective Alzheimer’s seems to occur with said cake. Once a month, at my place of employment, the boss brings in one of those cakes to celebrate the birthday of everyone born in that month. And once a month I eat a slice of that sugary temptress only to feel my teeth suddenly deteriorate with cavities, my arteries clog and a sudden onset of type 2 diabetes. I see my future as the new spokes person of diabetes treatment, while I sit on top of my horse, wearing a cowboy hat and pronouncing it like “Dia-beat-us.”

Last month I decided that enough was enough. I asked “Sean” to help me and that every month when that cake comes strolling into the office and he sees my eyes all crazed with cake lust to remind me how after eating a piece I feel like I’m dying of a sugar overdose. Today was test day. Today the boss man walked in with that big, white bakery box in his hands and he walked towards the back to place it on the table outside the break room. FYI, the table and break room are not even a foot away from my desk.

I patiently waited for other people to cut the cake and take their piece. I hate being the first person that has to cut the cake. I feel like people are judging me, knife in one hand and plate in the other and I can feel them silently judging the size of the slice I’m cutting. Too big of a slice and I’m the office pig, too small and it’s look she’s pretending to be on a diet! So instead I waited an appropriate amount of time after other people have cut their piece to get my slice.

I even loudly said, “Mmmm, cake,” as I held the plate towards my face. All the while “Sean” just sat at his desk and looking at me like I was a crazy, not reminding me that the cake is going to make me feel the symptoms of death. He also just watched as I sat in my chair, hugging my stomach and quietly cursing the cake.

This is what failure looks like. "Seans" failure.

                                                                               

Don’t forget about submitting your questions for “Chris” and “Sean” for an upcoming interview. They can be simple questions like favorite color or off the wall, random questions like if you were a unicorn what kind of pizza would you eat? You know, the more off the wall the question, the better. So, ask away in the comments below or if you’re a tiny bit on the shy side shoot me an email at cupcakesandnerfguns@gmail.com.