I was wondering....

I love Baci. They are my favourite chocolate. I was introduced to them by an old boyfriend (one from long ago, not long in the tooth) - we bought them in South Melbourne, I think at The Old Post Office Cafe - in about 1987. I don't even like dark chocolate, but somehow these work. The butteriness of the hazelnut filling kind of buffs the sharp edges off the bitterness - and makes for a moreish treat.

I swear I hadn't eaten one of these for over a year - so after a long week, I bought a packet when we were picking up Ari's Star Wars Keyrings from Coles.

Last night I was doing some stuff on the computer. Important things like adding things to my LastFm playlist, Twittering, filing emails... that kind of stuff. I cracked open the packet of Baci, peeled the foil off , took a bite and idly read the little 'fortune cookie' style message inside. If you are familiar with Baci, you will know that it's as much about the message as the chocolate. The Message comes on a piece of clear cellophaney stuff - and is printed in five languages. Totally useful. In many different countries. Usually, the sweet (!) messages are about love - hence the Baci (kisses) moniker.

Here is what the first one said:

The night is silent, and it its silence, dreams are hidden.
- Okay. Um. It's kind of dark and mysterious and hopeful. Not really sweet though. Kind of black and Alice Cooper-ish (minus the chook be-heading).

Here is what the second one said:
You can judge a man by his friends.
- Not sweet. Quite annoying. Sexist. Quite untrue, too, i think. I know some nice guys with complete dicks for friends. So no. That one was no good.

I am forced to crack a third Baci (is that their plan?!)

Here is what the third one said:
A sponge to wipe away the past, a rose to sweeten the present, a kiss to greet the future.
- Okay. I can live with that. It's definitely sweet. It even has the word sweet in it. It ends on a high note. It's smells a bit like the powder room at David Jones, but hey, it makes me happy.

The thing is that there are eleven more Baci in the packet. I am scared to open them. I don't know what they will say. What if it's more crappy, dark stuff. I will never be able to look at a Baci again without thinking of Sylvia Plath or other morose people. And morose is not my thing. Sigh.

Have you eaten Baci lately? Did you get snippy, streetwise sayings or dark, broody quotations? What should I do? Should I turf them? Perhaps I could write new sayings in happy colours and slip them inside, pulling the old ones out with my eyes closed and chucking them in the bin? (That kind of reminds me of the time I opened all my Christmas presents while my parents slept and then sealed them all up again, only to reopen them a few hours later when they finally rolled out of bed! But that's another story.)

I was wondering.... Do you want my Emo-Baci?

xx Pip

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