Apart from making pancakes, muffins, frozen poptarts, and other bread based things way way better, chocolate also makes fountains better. Exponentially better.
I once stole 15 bananas (in a single trip) from the dining hall in the name of a chocolate fountain. The happy hour we were having was centered around a chocolate fountain that one of my fratmates had found chilling out in her house.
And what a glorious happy hour it was. Bitch beers plus a chocolate fountain gushing chocolatey awesome, plus marshmellows, oreos, pretzals, my bananas, strawberries, etc. It was drool worthy and soooo delicious.
After an hour or so of us casually drinking and consuming chocolate like crazy, a couple more people showed up to partake in our awesome happy hour (which had consisted of about six people up to this point). Maybe ten minutes later, Flower went to dip something in chocolate and then all hell broke loose.
Whatever she did broke the fountain. The stalk of the fountain popped up out of the motor base and started spinning frantically, all the while flicking arcs of chocolate everywhere. For several seconds everyone was too mesmerized or maybe stunned by the fact that the chocolate fountain was flinging brown stuff all over the place. We came to our senses and retreated out of the war zone. Someone pulled the plug on the thing and then we surveyed the damage:
It was funny in a what-the-hell-just-happened kind of way, but cleaning it up was definitely not fun. I got chocolate on one of my favorite shirts. That part was no bueno. There are still some chocolate stains in the carpet of that house.
The next chocolatey escapade I had involved Hershey's syrup. Long story short, I was well into tipsy, went upstairs to find my gloves, and am accosted by a friend of mine who then says, "Sam doesn't have any whipped cream on her chest!". Next thing I know my chest (I had a tanktop on) was covered in whipped cream and my friend and her boyfriend are licking it off me. What ensued was possibly one of the weirdest things I've ever done in my life. It was like some sort of dessert based orgy. I licked whipped cream and chocolate syrup off people whose names I didn't even know yet. Some of them were pretty hairy, and I cringe as I type this because now I'm just like, EW, what the hell was I thinking? Also, I'm pretty sure I flashed people during a Scottish drinking song. Lovely. I blame the alcohol and the fact that my tolerance was still relatively low.
Even though I was the only girl in the room to keep my shirt on most of the way (it was Catholic School Girl night themed happy hour so most other girls had stripped down a while ago), I can no longer wear that particular shirt or bra because they smell disgustingly of rotten milk. Good thing my boobs grew and I needed new bras anyway. But that does make two shirts that chocolate has ruined for me.
Moral of the story: chocolate is a double edged sword that is wonderful while it's good, but can turn into a backstabbing, shirt-ruining douchenozzle at any moment.
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