Bend It Like Nestle

On Sunday morning, Randy, Robert, Reena, Brian, Nick and I went to the VNSO Park for a little soccer scrimmage, but it ended up being more of a hypothetical battle of the blogs since the actual soccer bit was trés pathétique.

We found ourselves on the little AYSO kids’ practice field, experienced an injury and played to seven for only an hour with a handful of water/sarcasm breaks in between. On the bright side, we actually broke a sweat and I’m glad to say that I’m surprisingly not sore today. Who would’ve thought that soccer is that much less of an impact sport than kickball?

On the not-so-bright side, my hormones were totally fucking with me all weekend, thus impelling me to compulsively devour any and all chocolate I could get my hands on...totally against my will.

Okay, fine...maybe not so much against my will, but more so against my will-power. It doesn’t help that my mom has a giant Costco sized bag of Nestle semi-sweet baking chips in the Lazy Suzan. That’s almost as bad as the time my dad bought a 10 lb. Ghirardelli chocolate bar for a friend last year and ended up giving them a gift card instead, thus leaving said chocolate bar at home. Suffice it to say the chocolate bar didn’t last 10 lbs. for very long. Can you say “osmosis?”

I'll admit, I’ve toyed with the idea of going to a hypnotist to try to wean myself off chocolate. But after some deep thinking (i.e., massive consumption of dark chocolate), I came to the realization that if I didn’t love chocolate, I’d have no soul; but my ass would look really good in jeans. Oooh, dilemma.