If I don't stop eating Triscuits soon, there'll be none left for the potluck, and then where will we all be? Stabbing my officemate's soft pretzels or maybe stale French bread into the artichoke dip, that's where, and no one wants that. I mean, this is even assuming I ever get around to making the damn dip in the first place.
God, can't I just stay up and drink and eat crackers in peace?