Godiva Truffles

There are three boxes that, if I see them, make me liable to physically harm anyone trying to prevent me from reaching them. These boxes are: pizza, Dunkin Donuts, and Godiva Truffles. While the first two are somewhat lacking in class and sophistication, the third is pure, delicious snobbery. Is there anything so amazing as these little balls of sinful delight? Ugh, sheer decadence. They make me adore flavors that I don't even like, like coconut, and banana. Yeah, that's right. Godiva makes a fuckin Strawberry Banana truffle. It takes the form of a dark chocolate shell with white chocolate cross-hatching lusciously draped across the top. Give me a gun. Meanwhile, the Spring Raspberry truffle tastes like you are getting a hand job in a field of fresh fruit. It's unreal.

Savoring has never been my strong suit, but with these, to eat more than two in one sitting is really not appropriate. It would be like buying an 15 year old Scotch and drinking the whole bottle in one night. (I had to learn the hard way.) The French Vanilla Truffle? Oh, man. Rich, French vanilla cream enrobed in dark chocolate with toffee coated hazelnut pieces sprinkled about its exterior. Biting into this thing and tasting the filling is pretty indescribable. If someone sucked God's dick, this is what would come out. It's ethereal. You can buy this shit at Barnes & Noble. Go see what I'm talking about.

*Pecan Pie Truffles. Tell me you wouldn't steal someone's child for a box of these.