Deadlines, Omelets & Banned Chocolate

Somehow we managed to survive this deadline without our Emergency Chocolate drawer. Of course, that made us all a tad bit more snarky than usual.

The lack of EC had absolutely nothing to do with efforts to shed 5,000 pounds, acknowledge the evils of refined sugar or fit into those pair of blue jeans now stashed in the back of my closet.

No siree, Missy.

We can blame this entire 5-alarm chocolate-less state of emergency on a nasty little email sent just days before we launched into our second newspaper deadline. This little electronic ditty outlined some not-so-nice edicts from a bunch of state bureaucratic chocolate hatas. Jeez Louise, what is the world coming to?

The email went something like this “blah, blah, blah, high schools may not serve or provide …blah, blah, blah… candy at any time anywhere on school premises… blah, blah, blah…such foods and beverages may not be sold or given away to students on school premises by school administrators or staff (principals, coaches, teachers, etc.), student or student groups, parents or parent groups, guest speakers or any other person, company or organization…blah blah blah… stricter penalties… blah blah blah…”

Is there anyone left in the free world not on that list that can slip us a little contraband chocolate? Now, I know these little rules have been around for a bit, but like Jack Sparrow, I rather preferred to think of them as merely “guidelines,” mate. Apparently, such is not the case.

According to these rules, you can dive into a sugar-laden, fat-filled frenzy after school hours, but not during school. No illegal chocolate for the sports guys after they discovered they desperately needed a quote from the golf coach, who hasn’t been seen in days because the team’s at a tournament. No chocolate. None. Nadda. Zip.

And, no forbidden chocolate either for my cute little editor-in-chief when she discovered–once again for the gazillionth time–that no one shot her photos for the centerspread. No chocolate for her either. None. Nadda. Zip. Just two blank pages staring back at her.

And, there was no emergency chocolate for the rest of us either when–in the midst of deadline–we asked one of the sports guys, “Hey, what are you doing?” as he popped paper plate after plate into the microwave with some sort of egg concoction instead of working on his pages.

“Making omelets for my Spanish class,” he replied.

Now, I’m not exactly sure where mixing and microwaving omelets fit under the chocolate hatas memo. I remember seeing some link that had the words “square meal” somewhere, but I didn’t bother having a look.


You see, my meals come on round plates, and the only thing square comes in the form of a little banned chocolate bar.