Been a rather uneventful week. I did finally succeed in getting all of my bills paid a month ahead like I've wanted to do forever. Nice to have that cushion there in the event that something happens. You know, what with being self-employed and all. YEEP! NIce.
This is for women. You men need to read it and understand it though. There will be a test later.
Chocolate and Women
SPOILERS! (Click to view)Chocolate is God's way of reminding men how inadequate they are. I am vividly confronted with this fact every time my wife and I go out to a restaurant. When it gets to dessert, my wife usually orders the most chocolate-saturated dessert possible: It's the one called "Unstoppable Double-Fudge Chocolate Mudslide Explosion" or some such thing. I always wonder why anyone would want to eat anything that promises a catastrophic natural disaster in your mouth.
The dark brown monstrosity arrives at the table, and my wife takes the first bite. Before the fork is even removed from her mouth, a small moan escapes her lips. Her eyes, previously perfectly aligned, first cross slightly and then faze completely, pupils dilating in pure chocolate pleasure before the eyelids clamp down in ecstasy. The hand not holding the fork clenches into a fist and starts pounding the table. The silverware rattles.
After about six minutes of this, she finally manages to swallow the bite, realign her eyes, and take the next shuttle back from whatever transcendental plane she's been visiting. Slowly, her sphere of consciousness expands to include me, her husband, her life-long mate, her presumed partner in all things ecstatic.
"Hey, this is pretty good," she'll say. "You want some?"
No, I don't. I want nothing to do with an object that does to my wife in one bite what I've worked for an entire relationship to achieve. It wouldn't do any good, anyway. Men just don't have the same relationship with chocolate that women do. It's not even close.
I wandered around the office today and asked men -- "Chocolate. Your thoughts?" -- and the result was always the same. First, a confused look as to why they're being asked about something so trivial, and then some lame, obvious statement: "Uh... it's brown?"
Ask women the same question, and you get responses like "The ONLY food group," "ESSENTIAL to life as we know it," and the ultimate casual swipe at every member of the Y-chromosome brigade, "better than sex." Ouch. Some women will try to make up for that last one by quickly adding that chocolate is supposed to be an aphrodisiac. Uh-huh. Chocolate certainly increases desire; problem is the desire is usually for more chocolate. The best a guy can do is buy a box of chocolates and hope he'll be considered somewhere between the cherry truffle and the strawberry nougat.
Don't get me wrong. Guys like chocolate just fine; it's just not essential to life as we know it. Respiration is essential to life as we know it; chocolate is simply one of those nice little bonuses you get. We won't usually pass it up if it's offered, but I don't know too many guys who would get substantially worked up if it were to suddenly disappear from the face of the earth (ironic in a way, as back in the days of the Aztecs, only men were allowed to have the stuff).
When I eat a chocolate dessert, I enjoy it, yes. My worldview doesn't narrow to include only the plate that it's on.
Maybe we're missing something. On the other hand, we don't have to pick up our silverware from the floor after we're done with our tiramisu.
Life is about trade-offs like that. All I know is that come Valentine's Day, chocolate will be among the things I offer my wife. I can't truly appreciate it, but I can truly appreciate what it does for her. Which is close enough.
by John Scalzi
And now cuz I'm thinking of how fucking sick my game is right now. You have to know I don't mean sick the way the kids mean sick either. I mean good old sick like it's all fucking bad right now. So here's Mikey. I tried to get him to go to rehab but he wouldn't. Not in the middle of WSOP. Anyone who plays knows how "sick" Mikey is.
I sooooo understand the chocolate thing. Like whoa, sister. I could FEEL the wife's chocolate orgasm. I know just how that feels. Drool.
Good on the bills, training men for choco-readiness. an off game can be gotten back.... I had to rebuy twice before I got working in Sunday's game. The first dealer pitched me nothing but shit and I was playing like an asshole till I hunkered down and got my head in the game.
Get Mikey into rehab after WSOP, and smack him with a blackjack if he touches anything but Coke Zero. Just tell him "nobody likes to see a fat guy die. Their corpses aren't pretty, and you, Mikey, are no River Phoenix/Heath Ledger/Chris Farley!" The Farley thing will totally fuck with him (coming from a friend, not some random asshole like me).