All but one of the ~12+ little fopses that run around where my brain should be are telling me I should be a responsible big floofty and prepare actual, good, yummyful fuds for tonight (and leftovers for tomorrow).
Then there's that one fomps in the corner by the 3rd network rack that's as sploot as a soufflé pancake, lazily lifting one of it's pawbs, "pi...piizzzaaaa" it says wearily, before dozing off again as if yapping a single word was its achievement for the day.