I open my fridge door multiple times a day, hoping that somehow a piece of double chocolate fudge layer cake has materialized on the top shelf.  The cake is never there and instead of a fudgey baked good, I walk away with a bottle of store-brand lemon-lime seltzer.

“This is what I was really craving anyway,” I tell myself.  “Mmm, calorie free lemon-limeness.  What could be better?” 
“Self-materialized double chocolate fudge layer cake.  That’s what,” I answer, with the snottiness of an entitled bat mitzvah girl. 
“That was a rhetorical question, self.  Shut up, would you?”  I roll my eyes and take a too big chug of the seltzer that I choke on. 
Laughing at myself coughing, I say, “You could be gagging up chocolate cake right now instead of seltzer.” 
Once I cough my way out drowning in lemon-lime lungs, I yell, “Will you seriously shut up?” 
In a high pitched tone of mockery, “Will you seriously shut up?”  
“Hey, stop copying me.”  
“Hey, stop copying me.” 
“MOM!”

The calories of a piece of double chocolate fudge cake would be worth avoiding this inner monologue, I think.  I should just get some, right?