Nom nom nom

Not only did I do a less-than-stellar job of Giving Up Something For Lent, I seem to be doing an excellent job of binging on the always available sugar products carefully placed in my path thereafter. Eat, eat, manga manga the devils urge as I stride forth purposefully from my secure hundredsquarefeet to the water cooler or, saints preserve cosset protect and defend me, the coffee pot. Looky looky Girl Scout Cookies the devils rejoice as I dump my tasty n scientific lunch all over my tastefully dented desk, has it been five years since we took them out the boxes (oh yes it has). Daddy I has made dessert Nan pronounces as I enter Chez Nous, fagged out from another day in the data mines searching for low-hanging bacon to bring home. Ach du lieber, mein head she's a buzzin from the sugar rush; while I go under the digital hood to stare balefully at the nonfunctioning modem stack and perfunctorily poke at it with a cyberstick to try to urge it, me and us back on line. So that I can do my taxes. Nom nom nom indeed, chortles Leviathan; I'm getting rolled in sugar for something, or else I'm getting rolled, and no sir, I don't like it.