A Slave to the Rumbling

C is for cookie.

C is also for cannibalism.

But unlike cannibalism, cookies are Cookie Monster approved.

Cannibalism is…well…nobody approved.

It’s just a bad idea, plain and simple.

I am stomach. Hear me roar!

Roar with hunger, at any rate.

I think my brain may be ruled by my stomach.

And I evidently enter starvation mode if I go more than two hours without food.

Case in point:

Right around the three-hour mark, I typically start exhibiting signs of feral beastly hunger so intense that this vegetarian becomes pathologically unpleasant while getting dangerously close to resorting to cannibalism. (From Threading the Needle)

Yeah…

It’s that bad.

And so I am left to consider absurd possibilities.

Like eating toothpaste and Do Not Eat packets.

Okay, fine.

I would never actually do that.

Not intentionally, anyway.

In the 90 seconds it takes to make oatmeal, I sometimes have to grab something, anything, really, to tide me over long enough so I don’t pass out and knock myself senseless on the way down.

Like one of those funny-looking cookies that’s been sitting on the counter for a couple of days…

OMG, I hope that rock-hard thing wasn’t actually a dog biscuit.

Apparently, my brain gets its wires crossed when I’m excessively hungry.

Ooh, look!

Something that may or may not actually be food…

But hey, close enough!

Hmmm…

I’ll rummage in my purse, only to discover an avocado as my sole food option.

Avocado?

What’s that doing in there?

And more importantly, how the hell am I supposed to eat that while driving?

I’ve also been known to drink my kids’ juice boxes on the fly.

Oh yeah.

I’ve eaten whipped cream out of the can as a snack, in an attempt to quickly calm the turmoil in my belly.

Oh, and I once ate these horribly sickening nicotine cupcakes.

In my defense, I had no clue what was in them.

They were just sitting there, and I was hungry.

Bad idea.

And another time, when I tried a little too hard to sneak a piece of Laffy Taffy out of the Halloween pail…

Well, let’s just say I may have eaten a chunk of the wrapper in my haste.

Damn oppressive humidity.

All I can say is, hopefully the wrapper and ink were at least nontoxic.

But then, what do you expect from someone whose child once ate a glow stick?

Me want cookie! Om nom nom nom.

Me want cookie! Om nom nom nom.