Put the in the refridgerator.

buy a chocolate thermometer and invite the least scrupulous person you know over for tea.

S'mores. Lots of 'em.

Also: You need Twitter in your life.

I can think of some things. None of them clean and wholesome.

Break them into their individual little squares, construct a chocolate domino line leading to the edge of a table, crawl under the table, put your mouth underneath the last one, and set off the domino line.

Sell them door to door

You should eat them all in one sitting....may as well have one huge bellache rather than a bunch of little ones, eh?

You reading anything good these days?

Melt them down into one huge ball, and then make a chocolate sculpture out of an Ewok.

I've heard good stuff about Delilllo, but I haven't gotten around to reading anything by him. I'm not a huge fan of Post Modernism, so I don't know that I would like him.

Well for my most recent interview they sent me to a website to take tests on various pieces of design and development software, and coding too. The tests had obsolete software, no focus regarding what a person was doing with them, and obsolete code too. (not that I did awful on them anyway, but it was annoying)
I'm thinking it would be worth building something better. PM me if you want more details

Nope, but if I remember correctly you stuck it in the little side pocket of your brown purse.

if the chocolate hardens you're doing it too slow. fortune favors the bold (and dexterous).

Okay, forgot Ewoks. Star Wars sucks anyways. Make a bust of Rob BLAG-O-JEVICH and roll him off of the table.

Um, eat them.

If you really don't know what to do with them, you can pack them in an envelope. Then you can write my address on that envelope and send them to me, so that I can eat them ;op

Were they the Christmas ones? The Christmas ones are awesome.

You need it so I can stalk you easier. Duh.

Less than a week....

:sigh: Someone doesn't love me any more.

"Narratives?" Your postmodernist language makes my brain hurt.

You don't. Which is why I'm less likely to forgive your postmodern tendencies. Spite, you know.

You don't have my street address? I guess you need to work on those journalistic skills.