You ever have that experience where you’re about halfway through a book, and it’s just not working for you, but you keep reading anyway? This happens to me somewhat regularly, especially with TV shows. I’ll say to myself, well, might as well see how it all plays out. It’s only 11 more episodes. Or, in some cases, it’s only about 3 more seasons. (!!)
As if somehow, it’s all going to change, they’re going to hire new writers, or the book, or the movie will suddenly make a turn that makes all the waiting around worthwhile.
Get a clue. Trust your instincts. It’s no good and it’s not going to be good. I wish someone would shake me and say that sometimes.
And right now, I’m having a sort of Pinkberry variation on the issue. Do you know Pinkberry? It’s a frozen yogurt place in the States. Don’t ask me why it’s called Pinkberry; makes no sense to me. (Its main competitor, as best I can tell, is called the even more mysterious “Red Mango”. I walked by one for a year without even looking in, thinking I just don’t like mangos that much.)
So anyway, I discovered a Pinkberry about a 3 minute drive from my house. I can actually see it, or its vicinity, from my room.
This is not a good thing. Because, since venturing into the abovementioned Red Mango, I’ve developed a sort of addiction to original flavored frozen yogurt. Sweet and yet also bitter, tangy, with a dash of strawberries and chocolate chips on top… seriously, once writing this I’m now thinking about bailing from writing this to go get some. I’ve got it that bad (or good, depending on how you look at it).
[In the voice of Homer Simpson] "Mmm. Delicious."
But I kept telling myself, it’s only until I fill “the card”. The first I time went in, they gave me a punch card. Buy 9 froyos, the tenth is free. 7 more, 5 more, 3 more… I started thinking of it like the bad book analogy… yeah, it’s not so good for my figure, but might as well finish it.
And so I kept eating. And eating. And the cravings were growing more desperate, and my nerves more frayed. Last week I went in and the girl at the register asked what I would like, and after I told her she began asking follow up questions. Would you also like to try the other flavors? Trying to control the withdrawal shaking, I quietly shook my head. How about, would I like other toppings as well, like honey or waffle-cone-bits?
I almost snapped. Honey? And what the hell are waffle-cone bits?
No, I said, now glaring and shrill. JUST GET ME MY FROYO.
And then, last night, end of my rope, I did it. Finished the card. Got my free yogurt. Totally home free. It is finished.
As I walked out, the man waiting on me called me back. “Don’t forget this.” In his hand… a new card. And the first box already stamped.
In the immortal words of Charlie Brown:
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