PB Pie High

It was a roller coaster of emotions as I devoured this “Peanut Butter Pie” which was similar to a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup but twenty times as big, a hundred times better and with lots of whip cream:

Surprise: Wow, it’s bigger than I thought it would be.
Amazement: Oh. My. Gosh. This tastes so good.
Competitive: Frank is eating too fast. Must speed up.
More surprise: Chocolate AND Peanut Butter? This is no pie. It’s heaven.
Frustration: Frank is totally hogging it. I want more whip cream.
Jubilation: This is absolutely the best dessert I’ve ever had in my life.
Regret: Why did I opt to share it with Frank? I should have gotten my own.
Optimistic: I’m so happy that there’s still half left.
Pessimistic: I’m so sad that there’s only half left.
Jealousy: I think Frank ate more than me.
Panic: I have to hurry and take more bites before Frank eats the whole thing!
Contentment: I think I might be getting pretty full. But it tastes so freakin’ good.
Confusion: Are my pants getting tight?
Panic again: Am I going to be able to get out of this booth?
Reasonable: I need to stop and take a break. Maybe we should save the rest for later.
Spontaneous: No, I have to live for the moment! I must finish this now! Carpe Peanut Butter!
Denial: Is it really gone? Did we finish the whole thing? Maybe there’s some that fell on the floor.
Anger: That Frank. He ate most of what was the best dessert I've ever had.
Regret: Why did I eat the whole thing? I think I ate more than Frank. I’ve never been so full in my life. This is worse than Thanksgiving 2002.


It’s 39 hours later and, as I write about it, I’m kinda wanting it again. Damn that delicious dessert! It's really got a hold on me. I wonder if there’s a program for PB pie addiction at the Wonderland treatment facility. Lindsay, need a roommate?