Or was I drugged and anal gang raped by gay aliens. All I know is I awoke to pee and as I looked down sleepily I noticed a matted, brown substance in my pubic hair. I grabbed a napkin and started scraping it out as I went back to bed. I threw back the sheets to find multiple big blotches of brown staining my 300 count Egyptians. I smelled my napkin cautiously...

Chocolate.

I hadn't shit the bed thankfully but I was still a bit concerned that I had been drugged in the night and taken by aliens who for some reason left me with chocolate in my pubic hair.

Oh wait.

No, I remember now. Sorry, it was actually from me. I forgot. At 4:17AM I arose in a cookie induced rem stupor and polished off the rest of the chocolate chips (I had not used in the batch of cookies I inhaled before going to bed at 3) with my eyes closed, trying to stay asleep as I ate them on the couch. One must have fallen and been trapped in my pubic hair and as I slept, melted, enclosed in the warm cocoon of my thighs-ball sack and as I tossed and turned, made its way onto my sheets.

An eating problem? Me? I don't think so. I just fasted for 7 days in the California desert getting colonics and only made it through the endless food commercials in the night by imagining the glorious moment when the following morning at the weigh-in, the scale would reveal up to a two pound weight loss for the previous 24 hour period. If I had an eating problem could I make it 7 days without ingesting the agent of my disease?

Hysterical. I'm in such denial. Alcohol and drugs were so much easier. You can just stop taking them. But food? You have to eat to live. It so much harder. It's like if I had to take two drinks every day in order to live but then try not to down the rest of the bottle. Impossible. Or just do two lines of coke, or two bags of heroin and then stop. Who the fuck would want to? I guess the same people who eat just two cookies. I hate them. Come on, live a little. I mean, you haven't experienced life on the edge until you've spent some portion of your morning trying to figure out if you shit your bed or were abducted by aliens who rubbed you down with chocolate as a farewell gift after anal raping you.

Posted by Eric Schaeffer at 10:49 AM

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