Somebody Stole My Cheese.
I'm a little ticked off right now. A little... cheesed. Gawd!
I took on a little self-improvement project a few weeks ago. Fifteen pounds so far, baby! Fifteen pounds down, and only.... a whole bunch more to go...
Anyway, because of this absolutely quasi-nazi-pseudo-spartan diet that I'm on, I'm allowed... well, not a whole hell of a lot of food. 1200 calories a day, to be exact. And very little of that is carb - it's a lot of protein. So you can imagine that any morsel of food is pretty damn precious to me.
Pretty. Damn. Valuable.
Last week I almost stuck a fork in my brother's hand for taking a three-inch stick of celery.
So, I bring my lunch to work today, right? Put it in the staff refrigerator, all Tupperware'd up, nice and neat - a tuna and tomato stuffed pepper; a slice of fat-free cheese to complete the protein portion of the meal (because there's only 50 grams of tuna in the pepper, and without a full 100gr protein serving, I start wanting to gnaw my own arm off soon after lunch) and a shiny, red apple.
Nice, huh? Spartan, but appetizing.
Somebody stole my cheese.
Somebody STOLE my cheese!
I'm allowed 1200 calories a day, and some wank stole my one piece of 100% fat-free, slice of processed cheese.
I will not dwell on this anymore. I will mention, however, that for every stinky thing that happens, a really swell thing happens, too.
An absolute angel that I work with - they're not all wanks, you know - offered me the white of her hard-boiled egg so that I don't have to start snacking on my elbow this afternoon.
And as for the Cheese-Stealer... if it's a woman, I'm cursing her to a lifetime of ladders in her stockings. And if it's a guy, he better start carrying a jack and a spare tire in his car at all times.
Flat tire curses. They're difficult to master, but they come in handy, you know?
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