Monday, December 31, 2012
"Alan, I'm making some cocktail wienie wraps. Do you want some?"
"No Mark. I'm not hungry, thank you."
I'm trying to be good. I know those things are full of nitrates and calories. Besides, I just ate breakfast two hours ago. I am not hungry. I continue to watch my football game and try to ignore the aroma wafting in from the kitchen. At some point my mind goes numb and my body goes on autopilot. I don't even remember getting up out of the chair, yet I suddenly find myself standing in the kitchen watching Mark pull a sheet of little wienies out of the oven. I know I shouldn't be there, but when I see Mark mixing up a batch of honey mustard in a little bowl, I succumb. Mmmm... little wieners dipped in honey mustard. Add a large glass of Cherry Diet Coke, and before I know it I am sitting back in front of the television with a dozen on a plate. For five minutes I sit there stuffing my face, occasionally tossing Chandler a small bit of wiener just to get him to stop drooling on my leg. When the dish is empty, reality comes rushing back to my brain. I did it again, I gave in to Mark and his never ending conveyer belt of food. In my mouth is the aftertaste of too much honey mustard, various cow bits, and a list of chemicals too long to list here. I disgust myself, and I know that there is only one cure for this food fetish. Kill Mark. Either that, or grow a pair and just say no. I could make it my New Years resolution. No, not killing Mark, but learning to say no. That should last until say, noon tomorrow.