Goulet had too many Cherry Pop-Tarts backstage

It's a Sunday morning and I feel like hell. I'd still be sleeping, but my body doesn't think I deserve it. You see, I went to a party at Chez Scooby last night and forgot to practice a little thing called self control.

I know my limits. I know how much is too much. I know when to say when. But it's so hard to say "when" while everybody around you is still going strong. It's peer pressure, pure and simple.

But can you blame me? The way they make 'em, you don't even realize what you're doing. They just taste so sweet and delicious, you can't resist. I didn't know any better.

I couldn't help but ask for "one more" even when I didn't really want one more. "One more" becomes "two more," "two more" becomes "four more," and before you know it you've become "that guy," puking on the original Monet hanging in the living room and using the dog to wipe the vomit from your mouth. Sorry about that...

What's done is done. I had my fun and nobody got hurt. And that's all that matters, right? Sure this has happened to me before, but going wild every once in a while is fine...right? If it becomes a problem, I'll stop. But until then, I'll keep consuming as many cookies with as much milk as I want.


Oh...you thought I was talking about alcohol? Chuckle. No, no - I'm not much of a drinker. But I loves me some cookies. They had no less than three kinds of delicious cookies and an ample supply of milk. How can I resist that kind of temptation? I ate way too many, even after I felt full.

If Legal Counsel and I were Adam and Eve (respectively), Areenos/jPod/Moose would be the snake. And the apple would be a cookie. The Garden of Eden would be Chez Scoobie, I suppose. And the tree would either be the dinner table or the deck, I'm not sure. God would probably be Christopher Walken. Ah who am I kidding, Christopher Walken already is God.