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MedicineMan

Don't Do What I Did

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Back in January, after watching a Nebraska dual and later working out with JB, (no, not @Jasonbryant) helping him with his timing on the heel pick, I stopped and picked up a box of Cinnabons.  I'd never tried them before.  Yeah, I know they've been around a long time, but I just never bought any before.  

It was a box of 16 baby frosted cinnamon rolls.  They call em Minibons.  I set em on the front seat while I drove home, only a hundred miles, 90 minutes of easy Interstate.  I planned to try them after supper...but that didn't happen.  I kept glancing over at them, the smooth, white frosting and the dark inviting cinnamon...man, I love cinnamon.  I ignored my natural resolve and discipline, flipped the box open and popped one in my mouth.

Pretty tasty, better than I expected, I thought at first.  But it was the after effect that really surprised me; once I finished it my taste buds whined for another, my mouth was watering.  Too bad "betcha can't eat just one" is already taken by Lays potato chips.  Is that what crack cocaine first-timers experience? That powerful craving after the first bump?

I told myself no more, but a second later reached for another and popped in into my mouth. By the time I was home, there were only two left, for my wife.  I sat there in the driveway looking at them.  What the hell, I stuffed em both in my mouth and dropped the empty box in the garbage can before going in the house.

My wife was making dinner in the kitchen, but I sidled to  the bathroom first to wash the traces of frosting out of my mustache before kissing her.  She mentioned that her car insurance was due, and reminded me that I had promised to take care of it.  So I got onto my laptop and was about to log into the Insurance website, but my cursor slid up to the email icon,  like a possessed Ouija board thingy, anything to avoid making a payment. Most of the emails were reminders to pay bills:  cable, phone, electricity, loan payment....geeze, I thought, I'd better get this crap taken care of.  

But instead the cursor went to maps and I began to look for Cinnabon locations in town. There were several locations, and one not too far...I probably drove by it a thousand times and never noticed.

The wife yelled "supper" so I closed the laptop and headed for the table.  But after supper I snuck out and drove to that Cinnabon, and bought another box of 16 minibons. I ate em in the garage and then lied to my wife about what I was doing out there...told her I was making her a gift, so stay in the house.

In the following weeks, all I could think about was Cinnabons.  I was addicted to the rolls.  And at work I borrowed cash from just about everyone, spent all of it on Cinnabons, but have paid none of it back.  My wife's car insurance was cancelled because I forgot to pay it.  I put on 25 lbs and JB told me I didn't need to show up any more for our workouts every two weeks.  I owe him like 3 C-notes.

I need help...is there some kind of therapy out there for this?  And the weird thing is, nobody is ignoring me or giving me the cold shoulder for being such a dick...well, besides JB.  Everytime I start a conversation they jump right in and respond, like they forgot I owe everyone money.  I'm a worthless bastard, and I can't figure out why they are not boycotting me.  

BTW, @jross, @Doc_Hfuhruhurr, @jchapman can one of you guys borrow me a fifty, like just until next week?

 

Cinnabon-Minibon-CinnaPacks_874x440.jpg

Edited by MedicineMan

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7 minutes ago, MedicineMan said:

Back in January, after watching a Nebraska dual and later working out with JB, (no, not @Jasonbryant) helping him with his timing on the heel pick, I stopped and picked up a box of Cinnabons.  I'd never tried them before.  Yeah, I know they've been around a long time, but I just never bought any before.  

It was a box of 16 baby frosted cinnamon rolls.  They call em Minibons.  I set em on the front seat while I drove home, only a hundred miles, 90 minutes of easy Interstate.  I planned to try them after supper...but that didn't happen.  I kept glancing over at them, the smooth, white frosting and the dark inviting cinnamon...man, I love cinnamon.  I ignored my natural resolve and discipline, flipped the box open and popped one in my mouth.

Pretty tasty, better than I expected, I thought at first.  But it was the after effect that really surprised me; once I finished it my taste buds whined for another, my mouth was watering.  Too bad "betcha can't eat just one" is already taken by Lays potato chips.  Is that what crack cocaine first-timers experience? That powerful craving after the first bump?

I told myself no more, but a second later reached for another and popped in into my mouth. By the time I was home, there were only two left, for my wife.  I sat there in the driveway looking at them.  What the hell, I stuffed em both in my mouth and dropped the empty box in the garbage can before going in the house.

My wife was making dinner in the kitchen, but I sidled to  the bathroom first to wash the traces of frosting out of my mustache before kissing her.  She mentioned that her car insurance was due, and reminded me that I had promised to take care of it.  So I got onto my laptop and was about to log into the Insurance website, but my cursor slid up to the email icon,  like a possessed Ouija board thingy, anything to avoid making a payment. Most of the emails were reminders to pay bills:  cable, phone, electricity, loan payment....geeze, I thought, I'd better get this crap taken care of.  

But instead the cursor went to maps and I began to look for Cinnabon locations in town. There were several locations, and one not too far...I probably drove by it a thousand times and never noticed.

The wife yelled "supper" so I closed the laptop and headed for the table.  But after supper I snuck out and drove to that Cinnabon, and bought another box of 16 minibons. I ate em in the garage and then lied to my wife about what I was doing out there...told her I was making her a gift, so stay in the house.

In the following weeks, all I could think about was Cinnabons.  I was addicted to the rolls.  And at work I borrowed cash from just about everyone, spent all of it on Cinnabons, but have paid none of it back.  My wife's care insurance was cancelled because I forgot to pay it.  I put on 25 lbs and JB told me I didn't need to show up any more for our workouts every two weeks.  I owe him like 3 C-notes.

I need help...is there some kind of therapy out there for this?  And the weird thing is, nobody is ignoring me or giving me the cold shoulder for being such a dick...well, besides JB.  Everytime I start a conversation they jump right in and respond, like they forgot I owe everyone money.  I'm a worthless bastard, and I can't figure out why they are not boycotting me.  

BTW, @jross, @Doc_Hfuhruhurr, @jchapman can one of you guys borrow me a fifty, like just until next week?

 

Cinnabon-Minibon-CinnaPacks_874x440.jpg

Every morning start 6 new threads on the forum.  Create a new username and every afternoon start another 6 new threads but when posting in the afternoons be sure to argue with yourself/reply to your own posts.  Create one more username for evening posting.  Continue for 6 weeks then have one plain bagle for breakfast and you should be cured.  Good luck!  :)

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I had just arrived, with my wife, in Houston back in the summer of 2015 to work at Baylor College of Medicine. After a few days acclimating to the city we fell upon a donut store called “Glazed”. I had heard of it on one of the Food Network shows, so we decided to grab a few for later that night. They had all kinds, covered in various cereals, a “Macon Bacon” one covered in maple icing and thick cut bacon bits, and even a cheeseburger stuck between two hot and fresh glazed donuts. 
 

I’m not a fancy lad so I ordered half a dozen glazed and we left. Couple hours later I had my first, then my second, then third, then without realizing it I had eaten all six! My wife wasn’t mad she said we can get more another time....

She didn’t realize how true those words were. Around 330AM I woke up with a taste, a taste for more, a taste for them all!!

I threw on my flip flops and drove over to the store, luckily they were 24 hours. I ordered a dozen, only 8 made it the 10 minute drive home.

Around 415AM my wife came out and asked if I was ok. My mouth full I said “ya, got you a donut!” I had eaten the other 11. Full and about to faint and go into a sugar coma I slugged back to bed where I slept the most peaceful sleep in my life.

We left Houston a few month later, mostly because of the racist, classist, unethical doings of my superiors but I always think it was God’s way to get me to break my addiction.

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@MedicineMan - you are master and savage of words.  Tell you what.  Sure, I will spot you $50 and I will see you this Saturday at my place.  Wear some clothes that you are not afraid to get house paint on.  Work starts at 7am.  Do a nice job, send your address, and I'll ship some cinnabons over.  Keep coming over on weekends and I'll keep the cinnabons ready.  I'll also pay off your debtors if you work hard and publicly apologize.  You know what you did.  Own it!

 

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