chocolate coma achieved

Last night Jason and I went to a Toad the Wet Sprocket concert with some friends. The concert was great, we loved the venue, and we saw Glen Phillips' daughter twirl around with her dress over her head. (Glen Phillips= Lead singer of Toad, his daughter was maybe 5 and was very cute dancing around to her father's music). After the concert we went to La Fondue for dessert and this is where the evening took a turn for the worse.

La Fondue wants you to think it is a culinary delight nestled in cute downtown Saratoga, but in reality it is a den of gluttony created to give people stomach aches. Don’t believe me? In their bathrooms they have an industrial sized bottle of Tums. See, den of gluttony. The problem was that I didn’t know La Fondue was a stomach ache waiting to happen, I thought it was a cute culinary delight. And when we ordered our chocolate fondues I indulged. I indulged quite a bit. Okay, I went all out and ate more than one human should be allowed to. You know how the fat guy in Seven was forced to eat until his stomach popped? Well, I was one chocolate dipped rice krispy ball away from that point.

Don’t get me wrong, the fondue was wonderful. But maybe it should have been less wonderful so I wouldn’t be forced to eat a boat load of it. By the end of the meal, I was heading straight into a cranky, chocolate coated coma. I was filled to the brim with chocolate, marshmallows, and snickers bars (yeah, they give you snickers bars to dip in chocolate. Overkill? Yes. Awesome? Hell yeah!) and all I wanted to do was sleep.

When we got home I whined about my stomach for a few minutes and then crashed into a sleep that contained some incredibly bizarre dreams. My favorite dream was about Jason being completely bald on top of his head and growing in the sides really long so he could do a comb over. But it was a really greasy, gross comb over but nothing anyone told him would change his mind about it. He loved his comb over and wasn’t going to get rid of it. One night I tried to clip the comb over to a normal length and he woke up and was upset. His beloved comb over was almost no more! So all scissors were locked up at night and he would hide the key. I woke up around this point, probably out of fear, and had to roll over and check his head. Hair still there? Check.

This morning when I woke up I still felt wretched from all of that chocolate. I thought I was a dessert pro, but obviously I am not. The sugar hangover this morning was just as bad as any other hangover I’ve ever had. I barely made it through the first part of the work day. And even after lunch and plenty of caffeine I still just want to go to bed. Stupid La Fondue.