So I’m talking to my friend today and the following conversation was had:
Her: So, do you want to hate my husband with me?
Me: I’m game. What’s up?
Her: Do you want to know what his sole job is at work today? (The man works making gourmet ice cream that none of the rest of us can afford to eat.)
Me: Will it piss me off?
Me: Bring it.
Her: His sole purpose at work today is to sit and eat chocolate. Piles and piles of chocolate, sent from all around the world. He’s going to sit around and stuff his face with expensive chocolate and decide which kinds they’re going to use in upcoming flavor creation.
Me: Chocolate…all day.
Her: Oh yeah, baby. Swiss chocolate, German chocolate, dark chocolate, super dark chocolate…it’s a fucking chocolate festival and there’s none for me!
Me: I am feeling hateful. And also premenstrual.
Her: I know, right?
I feel her pain. I’m cranky, and I think I might have missed my calling. I can’t help but think a panel of chocolate testers would be better. I wonder if it’s too late for a career change…