What's poppin'

Let's face it.

There is no dainty, ladylike way to eat popcorn.

I should know - I've tried to find the method, and it just doesn't exist. I could, quite possibly, be the world's messiest popcorn eater. When I eat popcorn, it looks like a jackal going to town on some dead thing in the Serengheti. Some of it may find its way into my mouth, some may find its way onto the floor instead. It all just depends on my aim and if I can get my lips around it just so.

I've had to work masking my disgusting popcorn eating habits at my NEW JOB!!!!! Yep, I am employed at some place other than the Bad Place, which means one thing: I can now begin working on the tell-all novel I have been threatening to write for the past five years or so.

Anyway, at my new place of employment, one of the perks is popcorn day. Popcorn day is a twice-weekly occurrence. Great heavenly joy! I live for popcorn day. I plan my days around it. If I know it's popcorn day, I won't pack as elaborate of a lunch. Then I try to resist it for as long as I can. If I happen to walk near the popcorn maker, it's over. MUST HAVE POPCORN!!!!!!

And then, I take my treasure back to my desk, and pray that no one is watching the horror that is about to unfold. It is as if my hands grow to twice their normal size as I dig into the popcorn bag for a handful. Then I jam as much as possible into my mouth as kernels go everywhere.

I tried to go for the One Kernel at a Time strategy, but man, that takes waaaaayyyy too long to GET IN MY BELLY. I will have to work on a technique that is somewhat more graceful before someone at my new job sees me and labels me with a giant FREAK tag. Trust me, I've already done a few things that have made me highly susceptible to this nomenclature.