Dear Mayor Michael “The Nanny” Bloomberg: You Da MAN!!
I am SO with you on your crusade against the nefarious, ee-ville fast/unhealthy food lobby. You see, I bin a victim my own self.
“Sister?!?!?! Not you, too!?!?!”
Sad, but true. And why? Because of the sneaky BAStards at French’s. Sitting on a six foot shelving unit in the commissary yesterday ~ every shelf filled to the bursting ~ were bags and bags of those frickin’ indescribably delicious, sinfully tempting, NO HUMAN BEING CAN RESIST THEM…French Fried Onions. And, no. I didn’t mistype “bag” instead of “can”. No, they were bags, alright. TWO and a HALF POUND bags of those damn onions. Schweet Mary, mother of God, what’s a mortal to do? I made it past all the cakes and ice cream only to be confronted at the checkout (!) line by the fried devil incarnate…supersized.
major dad put it in the cart. (Of course, the first stage is denial.)
TWO and a HALF POUNDS of greasy goodness is going to equate/morph to roughly TWENTY pounds on my ASS, thank you very much. And at the rate the TWO and a HALF POUNDS of fried felicity contained in that zip-lock bag is disappearing ~ my slick fingertips have slipped off the keyboard thrice, already ~ I’ll venture to say those twenty pounds will hit FRIDAY.
BASTARDS.
Where do I sign up, Mayor B. Somebody has to protect me.
And the children.
Fun, Swill Food and Grog | tree hugging sister | 
December 7, 2009 1:45 pm
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There better not be an extra twenty lbs on that ass by Friday…
That would kinda be YOUR fault, wouldn’t it, Mr. Put It In The Cart man? (The second stage is lashing out.)
Good lord, I guess that explains the green bean casserole last night.
And the one tonight.
I’ll remember that the next time a CAKE is put in the cart.
Wait……you haven’t told Ebola about this purchase?
Fry ’em up, and stick ’em in the fridge. They’ll be gone by morning, without an extra pound anywhere in the house.
C’mon everyone knows if they’re sprinkled over vegetables baked in cream of mushroom soup then they’re not fattening.