if i could describe the sensation of abject panic without revealing the wildly unflattering personal details at the heart of the attack, i would, but i'm lost for words. digression: the hot-cold air-blower here is a psychotic bastard and my peeps are becoming dessicated. my peeps, dammit.
so i fight panic with denial and mad bargaining, and within minutes (well, a hundred twenty of them anyway) i am back to my peeps and froststroke and heatbite and ... dammit my peeps. i'll have to eat the entire exposed tray within the next few minutes or all's lost.
and as to that panic, i have hatched a wacky plan and much hilarity will ensue, so cue the applause sign and cut to commercial, gotta pay the bills on this sitcom.
Gotta save the peeps. I always thought those things would be indestructible, but then again I've never actually touched one.
the peeps are still about the chewiest thing i can chew yet, and since they are pure unadulterated evil (sugar. i meant sugar) well it gets me through the day.