Cookie Monster

In case you don't already know this about me, I love sweets.  I love them in the morning and in the afternoon.  I love them in the evening and underneath the moon (if you didn't start singing Skinny Marinky Dinky Dink in your head just now get lost).  But it's true.  I really love all types of sweets and I sort of wish I didn't.

I don't think the issue is that I enjoy sweets, lots of people do.  I think the issue is that I crave them... like all the time.  Lazy Saturdays are just better with some homemade chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk in hand.  And those stressful days at work, well it's nothing that a little cupcake can't take my mind off of for an hour or so.  Do you see how this is dangerous?  I mean it would be nice if I had different cravings and really loved fruit or something healthier... but I don't.

I'd like to blame part of this on my mother who started this infatuation of mine at a young age.  I mean look at me?  I've got Cookie Monster clothes for my formal Olan Mills photo.  Talk about commitment.  Not to mention that my mom also loves sweets, with most her dinners in college consisting of a pack of Reese's cups and a soda.  It's clear where I get it from.

Ugh.  I need to get this under control.  With our trip to Cancun less than 3 weeks away, I'm making changes (at least temporarily).  That's right, I've given up sweets from now until our trip- eek!  I genuinely hope I can go without but it's going to be hard.  Pathetic, I know, but at least I'm honest.

Wish me luck, I'm going to need it.

Just another night at 3780

Saying that Jake and I love our dog is an understatement.  We are obsessed with our dog.  And by obsessed, I mean we are abnormally infatuated with this 19 pound Boston Terrier that was introduced into our lives nearly 2 1/2 years ago, named Tank.

So, what prompted this blog?  Moments like these...

Scene: 8:29pm and a DVR'd episode of Billy On the Street: Funny or Die is playing.  Jake is laying on the couch in his fleece jacket because he refuses to set the thermostat higher than 62° and I'm on the chair playing on my new MacBook Pro, lovingly named Watson.

Jake: Would you rather Tank be soft and have a not so cute face or keep his cute face and not be soft?
Me: Cute face, I don't care as much if he is soft.
Jake: Really?  I don't know about that.

a minute later...

Jake: Would you rather Tank not shoot bunnies (aka fart) or not beg for food?
Me: Easy. Not fart.
Jake: No way.  I'd rather he not beg for food.

another minute later... 

Jake: Would you rather Tank have his cute eyes and face and lose his floppy ears or get buggy eyes and an ugly face but keep his floppy ears.
Me: Lose the ears.
Jake: Seriously?  Why?
Me: Buggy eyes lead to more health problems and I don't want an ugly dog.
Jake: (to Tank) Mom did a good job picking out the cutest Boston Terrier with the best ears and face.

end of conversation.

I won't even get into the details of this past Sunday where me, my Dad, and Jake were at one point all sitting in the living room begging Tank to come sit by us.  Don't even worry about the fact that we paused a movie to have this weak moment.  He chose me, but who's keeping track?

PS After I read the draft of this post to Jake he told me he didn't say any of this and that, for the record, Tank ended up choosing to sit near him Sunday.