Life's our oyster and we're gonna suck that bitch down with a champagne chaser.

  • Behavioral Therapist
  • MA Developmental Psychology, Columbia
  • BS Psychobiology/ French, UCLA

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    by George R.R. Martin

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    Fox & Friends


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Sunday, March 02, 2008  
As a result of my job, I have become adept at observing subtle nuances in human behavior and why they do the things they do. Of course, I usually get myself into trouble when I say these observations out loud because I'm often...wrong. I guess my genius insight only applies to the young children I work with, although some of the adults I know could've fooled me with their growed-up facade. However, some stereotypical behaviors are universal, in this country at least, and come in the form of impulse eating and buying. I sure as hell am guilty of it and so is pretty much everybody. It's when the rare opportunity arises that you get to observe the behavior in the wild rather than being caught up in taking part in the act that you realize that, at some point, you've looked as dumb as the person you're watching.

On a recent trip to San Francisco, or rather on a recent trip to an airplane destined for San Francisco, I was headed towards the bathroom before the flight (although I quickly exited the facilities due to a man having a conversation with his penis at the urinals) and passed the LAX Cinnabon located in close proximity to the men's room. I stopped at the entrance of the Cinnabon, trying to decide whether it would be a wise decision to purchase such a horrifying, yet oddly appealing, snack food. I ultimately decided to go with the box of Cinnabites rather than the gargantuan Cinnabon due to the fact that I cherish my arteries and things. Exiting the den of type 2 diabetes, I looked back and noticed someone, pausing in front of Cinnabon, looking as if Cinnabon had asked him a question and he didn't know how to answer. The question? "Are you man enough for a greasy, gooey, cinnamony Cinnabon, bitch?!" The answer? "I...I dunno if I should...Maybe? I might need one for the flight. I can't decide." The man stood there for a good minute and all I kept thinking was that I must've had the same stupefied expression on my face, staring into the cinnamon unknown. However, this man ultimately decided against giving in to the beast, and left the area.

Ten minutes later when I went back to try my hand at the creepy urinals again, that same man was again standing in front of Cinnabon, reading the promotion signs in front of the door.

He eventually went in.

Standing in front of the ominous LAX urinal, trying my damndest not to touch a thing, I wondered if each and every patron of Cinnabon passes by and just stands there staring, for a while, before deciding whether a cinnamon bun dipped in lard is what they fancy at the moment. I do not honestly believe that people set out to go to Cinnabon. "What're you gonna do today?"
"I'm gonna go to the dry cleaners, the pharmacy, Target and then Cinnabon." Cinnabon exists to lure innocent passer-byers. It does not exist as a planned destination. It exists to be a pit stop that no one needs, but is visited, nonetheless, by weak, confused souls such as myself. I could have gone without the cinnabites. I really could have. But did I want to go without the cinnabites? When there was a cinnabite distribution center located conveniently by the men's room at LAX? No. The answer is no.

Impulse buying at the checkout counter is something I often take part in. Were I not as materialistic as I am. If I didn't have a 9-page Amazon wishlist of useless crap. Maybe I wouldn't give in to the traps set by the marketing strategist at places like Best Buy, Target and Cinnabon. But I am. And I do. And if I see something that seems like a deal, I take the bait, hook, line and sinker (I don't fish, what does that actually mean?)

Next time I'm trapped in the gravitational pull of a Cinnabon, I just hope that if common sense fails me, which it basically always does, I will remember two important words that will hopefully sway my decision for the better.

Heart. Burn.

12:03 AM


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