Twizzlers

Really, it's not right for a student worker to come up to me and ask, "would you like a twizzler?" and then, as she watches my eyes get big and my head wildly bob up and down, point me toward a cubboard containing two bags of the heavenly items. "You can have as many as you want," she said, "I can't finish them." First of all, don't tell me I can have as many as I want. I want all of them. Every last one. And second of all, how the hell can you not finish a bag of twizzlers? Oh, if only I had the ability to get to the middle of a bag of twizzlers and nonchalantly say, "I can't really finish these." Instead, I gobble and gobble away, until my tonge is red and I have pieces of the twizzler in every crevice of my teeth.

Pure sugar, that is what they are. And so I should stay away from them. But, with everyone gone for lunch, I just had to finish off the bag of pull-n-peel(I'll give myself some credit by saying that there were only two left, so I'm not doing too bad). I've only made a small dent in the bag or normal twizzlers, and I'm hoping to keep it that way. When she said, "as many as you want," I really don't think she meant all of them. Though, if she needed me to finish them for her, I definitely would. I love twizzlers.