Not so Super

Ugh...I'm stuck here at work for the entire day....I can't leave....meaning I have to eat from the cafeteria. Yes, you're right, I don't have to; but I lack both the foresight and drive to actually pack food for myself....what the hell do you want from me? Mmmm...I wish I worked at Conde Nast....their cafeteria is the bomb! (yeah, I know it's 2005....aren't we still allowed to use that phrase? Oh, right, but I am a complete dork.) (Similarly, their cafeteria was designed by Gehry the architect, while ours was designed by Gary, the "architician"; he's also a "Dope MC" according to his card).
Anyway, in my stupor this afternoon, I decided to get some food. Blech. Nothing good. But looking at the menu, there was Roast Beef (blech), Broccoli Quiche (labeled vegetarian but with visible hunks of bacon...only to be outdone by the pools of grease), and Superdog!!! [editor's note: exclamation points are not from this author]. I mean THREE exclamation points. Three of them. Who can top that? I mean four would just be ridiculous...but three excites...it whetted my appetite. And, it obviously fits within my pseudo attempts to eat healthier and lose my gut. I mean, that's why they're so excited about this "super" dog, right? Sold.
Now, I sit here, regretting every bite...(why did I keep eating?)....regretting every exclamation point (why did I add mustard? I hate yellow mustard)....regretting not taking my zantac with me to work....I'll never learn. Damn you, you advertising geniuses.