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There was a whopping huge box of chocolate candies in the breakroom at work this morning. Unfortunately, they all had that kind of rounded-off rectangular shape which is strongly suggestive of nougat or crème which I found highly discouraging. There were no lumpy ones likely to contain wonderful almonds or hazelnuts, and none of the thin, flat ones which are obviously composed of delicious, brittle, toffee. Granted some of the stuff in the box is probably chocolate-covered caramels, but given the statistical probability of nougat, I decided not to take my chances. Forrest Gump obviously didn't have any great horror of nougat, whereas I see it as a slightly less toxic alternative to BluTak.

Somebody I knew in college (but I can't remember who, now) had a monster wad of BluTak—seriously like a fist-sized chunk of the stuff. What I do remember was how satisfying it was to take that wad of Tak and wing it at a wall, as hard as possible, to make it stick. Sometimes, we'd chuck it at the ceiling, much more gently, and wait for it to come plummeting back down. Kinda like a Whacky Wall Walker, but not.

Okay, now that I've started looking for info on BluTack, I think whatever my now-nearly-forgotten buddy had was something else, since BluTack seems to be a British thing. Whatever it was is similar. Some kinda sticky-tacky-putty stuff for hanging posters and “thwocking” at cinder-block walls. And yeah, it's properly spelled “BluTack” not BluTak. Ah well.

I have officially put way too much time and thought into alternatives to tape.

Actually, when I started writing, I was planning to write about the chocolate conundrum and foods which invite throwing. I was musing about throwing sausages yesterday. Sausages just seem to beg to be thrown, knife-style, across crowded rooms. Whenever I see a sausage, I have this strange compulsion to grasp it between my thumb and forefinger and speed it across the room at some deserving party or another. I think perhaps larger sausages like bratwurst would be good to throw knife-style, but little sausages, like those little breakfast links, could satisfyingly and effectively be thrown like darts. Beats the alternative of actually eating the nasty, greasy, gristly things.

Among other foods which invite throwing are Jello/Knox-Blox. Show me a school cafeteria which doesn't sport crusty little rainbow-hued blotches on its ceiling, and I'll show you a school which doesn't serve Jello with its lunches. Heck, even at Cottonwood, where there was no actual cafeteria, Jello was occasionally thrown (woah, dude, I just split an infinitive). Generally it was at school parties, where one parent would insist on bringing Knox-Blox (an abomination) and they would become covert sticky weapons. You'd slice off a little bit of Knox with your spoon, then using that selfsame spoon, catapult it at a friend or a window or the ceiling. Flying fruit-flavored gelatine is a beautiful thing. I think it is the innate boogeriness of gelatine-based desserts which invites children to play with it so. I mean, if anyone on this earth enjoys the amusement potential of the viscous, it's a kid. Hence, Slime, Gak, Floam especially.

I've been especially easily amused of late. Peculiar groupings of words have brought me especial joy today. It is affecting my writing so that an e-mail written yesterday contained such aberrations as, “designate that as the left-side legwarmer henceforth” and “…if you came in the guise of a purveyor of sausages.” I think it may well be that I have officially cracked. And yes, sausages have weighed upon my mind since at least yesterday. And no, I don't think it is Freudian.

Well, I'm off to bake more cookies. Gonzo Baking season is in full swing and I'm getting really, truly, and thoroughly sick of the sight, smell, and heat of cookie baking. I'll be pitching cookies in the manner of skeet-shooting pigeons if it gets much worse. Therefore, I need to hurry up and get finished with the project so I don't go completely bonkers. So, I'll continue swanning around the kitchen in a sportsbra, baggy jeans, and enormously thick woolly socks, baking like a maniac. Season's greetings!

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