I know what I want for my birthday. These:
They are caffeinated!
Oh yes, caffeinated marshmallows.
I realize a Mormon woman wanting caffeinated marshmallows is pretty much the equivalent of an Amish woman wanting shiny buttons, but what can I say? Sin on, sister! Sin on.
I have been caffeine free for I don’t know how long. A couple of weeks, anyway. Most of the time I’m just fine with it, but sometimes? Sometimes I just want a fix to help get me through the day.
I know I could go get some regular Dr. Pepper and avoid all the aspartame that way, but I just can’t. All that syrupy sugar just makes me feel icky.
But sugar in the form of marshamallowy goodness? That is something I can do. Actually, I’d rather not admit just how often I do indulge in sugary, corn syrupy, marshmallowy goodness. Mmmm . . .
And can you just imagine toasted, caffeinated blobs of yumminess with a dark chocolate bar? Oh my word! I think that’s the happiest thought I’ve had all day.
I feel a little dirty now.
I don’t want to become addicted to caffeine again, I just want something to help get me through next month and all the Official Oldness that will be going on. And stuff. Since booze isn’t an option (that would be like an Amish woman getting shiny buttons and a lacy, leather bustier!) I see no harm in a box full of caffeinated, toastable goo. Mmmm . . .
Speaking of oldness, as I was sitting in my Dr.’s office waiting room for an ungodly amount of time yesterday (because I need more hormones, and they are working that well) the older guy who was also in the waiting room struck up a conversation with me. There were actually about five other people in the waiting room but they all (and I am not making this up) went out for a smoke, leaving just the two of us.
Anyway, older man started talking about how loooooong the wait always is in this office (no crap) and how people have other things to do, and I said something about having five kids at home and being glad my oldest is now old enough to baby sit, and he said, “Five kids? There’s no way you’re old enough to have five kids!”
*God bless you, older man!*
And I, because apparently old age makes me over share with strangers in waiting rooms, said, “Oh, I’m going to be 40 next month.”
What the hell? I’m supposed to be lying about my age at this point, right?
Anyway, so then he was all, “Seriously? Then, gosh, your oldest must be, what? Eighteen? Twenty?”
And I was all, “Yeah, no. She’s going to be thirteen soon.”
So he was all, “Oh, you got a late start then, huh?”
Thanks, dude. Way to make me feel older. I was barely 27 when my first daughter was born, and that is late? What are you, Mormon or something?
No caffeinated marshmallows for older man, then.
And George, if you’re out there, Tewt the Newt would share with you.