I would like to take a brief moment to remark on one of the silliest inventions ever: Crumble Cake Muffins.  At first glance, they appear harmless enough, but just when you least expect it, they strike.  They look like muffins, smell like muffins, and taste like muffins… but are, in fact, death.   And by death, I mean, crumble cake cleverly disguised as a muffin.

My encounter occurred on a casual humpday, during our weekly Corporate Communications board meeting.  Prior to the fateful event, I had been sitting at my desk, enjoying the top part of my newly acquired muffin, unaware that it was, in fact, a crumble cake muffin.

Now, anyone who has ever eaten a muffin knows that while the top part is the by far the most delicious, the enjoyment one gets from peeling off the liner to reveal the perfectly grooved bottom half is a close second.

When the time came for my meeting, I brought my partially eaten muffin along, unaware of the danger I was unwittingly headed into.

The first part of the meeting went by without a hitch, but if I had known better I would have realized the crumble cake was just biding its time.  I finished eating the top part of my muffin, which was significantly more entertaining to me then the topic being discussed at the meeting, and took a brief water break before preparing to dive into the highly anticipated bottom half.

With cleverly suppressed excitement I began to peel back the layers of the lining.  I paused momentarily when I realized that more of the muffin was sticking to the lining than usual, but ignorantly dismissed it as a brief glitch and continued.  Three-quarters of the way through my peeling, I realized two unequivocal facts with blossoming horror:

#1: I had, in fact, been tricked by a crumble cake muffin; and

#2: I was already  in too deep to cease and desist my peeling campaign.

A clearly audible gasp escaped my lips as I completed my fruitless attempt to remove the lining off the so-called muffin and the wrapper fell limply onto the meeting table.

All eyes immediately shifted away from the PowerPoint presentation (clearly further proof that my muffin debacle was more interesting than quarterly reports) to the sad little pile of crumbs that my muffin had morphed into.

Determined to best the devilish little pastry, especially with my coworkers watching me (probably with bated breath but who really knows), I attempted to scoop the crumbs into manageable chunks and navigate them to my mouth.

After the third chunk burst on its way to my mouth and showered my sophisticated black outfit with strategically placed light brown crumbs, I gave up and decided to throw the sneaky little muffin out.

Amidst the chuckles of my boss and coworkers, I scooped up the lining containing the crumbs, spilled most of it down the front of my pants, missed the garbage can when I threw it out, and spent the next few minutes attempting to gather the fallen crumbs before giving up and returning to my seat, still hungry and very dirty.

Crumb Cake: 1                             Becca: 0

Thank you for taking the time to read my #firstworldproblem.