Death to Cookies

I love my Poompy. I really believe I have the best Poompy in the entire world. This morning, my Poompy got up at 8:00 a.m. - on his day off, mind you - and followed me around the house while I got ready for my audition, to help me run lines. Then he packed me a lunch to take to work. Then he walked me to the subway station, carrying my ginormous bag the entire way, so that I wouldn't be tired and sweaty when I got to my audition. He actually offered to do that for me, that is how much he loves me. He's unbelievable. I'm unbelievably lucky.

However.

When he packed my lunch, he included a white-chocolate-chip-with-dried-cherries cookie that is the size of my head. Did I mention that the cookie was huge? I'm using the past tense here because.... well.... it no longer exists. Because I ate the entire thing. I want you to know that the cookie was only in our house because I was saving it for him. For Poompy. There had been two cookies - they were free with our first order from Fresh Direct* - and I had already eaten one of them. I saved the second one for Poompy but he thought it would be nice to put it in my lunch today and then I ate it. The whole damn thing. And now I feel like a beached whale and I'm blaming him.

I went to the gym this morning at 7 a.m. But alas, it was for naught. For now I have eaten The World's Largest Cookie. It's kind of like I didn't go to the gym at all. Except I did go to the gym. I just ruined it all by eating that detestable cookie.

Death to cookies.

*Fresh Direct is a gift from God. You order all your groceries online and then they bring the groceries to your apartment! They carry your groceries up your three flights of stairs! It's wonderful. Does this mean that Poompy and I are real New Yorkers now? Because we have our groceries delivered? Before you know it we'll be eating at Pastis on Wednesdays and swearing at Cabbies.

Wait. I swore at a Cabbie yesterday. He started turning right on my walking signal and nearly ran me over. "FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE!" I screamed, "It's MY FUCKING RIGHT OF WAY, DICKWAD!" I guess I should go to Pastis tonight.