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October 25, 2001: All I need is just one bag

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While I may enjoy the fact that I'm within spitting distance of the coffee in this office, being this close to the break room is turning out to not be as grand as I'd originally thought.

The problem, see, is the fact that they buy us free microwave popcorn. And so at least three or four times per day I hear the click of the microwave door, followed a minute or two thereafter by the heavenly scent of butter and salt wafting over the edge of my cubicle. Oh, I come prepared with my little packed lunch all bagged and boxed and carefully counted for maximum nibblage with minimum Points. But when you are smelling freshly popped popcorn, that little bag of carrot sticks (0 points!) quickly loses whatever small appeal it had to begin with.

I am beginning to crave popcorn, and it is the deep-seated craving that will not simply be assuaged by a bag of the imitation stuff - the one that says 'light' on the side and is yellow only because they dumped in some food coloring (since the only way they get it to be so low fat is to simply show it a picture of the butter but don't actually let it touch the kernels). I want a big bag overflowing with popcorn so buttered the grease has turned the sack translucent in the few minutes it takes to pop. I want the kind of popcorn you can only get at the movies, where they'll add extra butter if you ask for it, and it's the amazingly nuclear yellow glop you can only find in theaters and fast food establishments. And unfortunately, that just doesn't fit into this whole Weight Watchers thing, drat it all.

And we're just not even going to discuss the fact that not only do they give us free doughnuts and bagels and schmear on Fridays, but they also have a toaster. The enticing aroma of toasted bread is almost as bad as the popcorn.

Almost. But not quite.

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